


Reverse

by kingburu



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Brainwashing, Evil Wally West, M/M, Mind Control, Missing Persons, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2017-12-06 06:29:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 45,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/732488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingburu/pseuds/kingburu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Endgame. Dick spit the blood out of his mouth and cinged in pain. He looked up through the broken lenses of his mask, and ripped the cowl off Zoom's face. Wally's cool green eyes stared straight back at him. <i>"Wh...what the...?"</i>  One year after the death of Wally West, Dick Grayson finds his best friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Insignia

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely based off [this](http://mistressofrobins.tumblr.com/post/45676373336/i-just-had-a-horrible-thought-what-if-the-light) post made by [mistressofrobins](http://mistressofrobins.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [itsxandy](http://itsxandy.tumblr.com/) and I played around with this a lot though. <3

Criminals alike had been gathered efficiently since the start of the new year, with cases that appeared less severe than others. Enough time to conspire, was the worry of Aqualad. Prison breaks from Belle Reve were rare—but not uncommon. Amanda Waller recently retook the chair as head of the department, knocking Hugo Strange off his pedestal to lick his wounds. One week ago, a truck transporting villains was mysteriously knocked over into the nearby swamp and robbed of their villains.

 

Beta’s job was to formally escort another truck holding Cameron Makhent (“Icicle Jr.”), Laura De Mille (“Madame Rouge”), Tommy and Tuppence Terror (“The Terror Twins”) and a girl named Jinx. The previous robbery resulted in only two of the villains captured: Mammoth and Glimmer; two ex-operatives of the Light. Others were left either to escape or be rounded up by the guards. Once Beta peacefully ( _warily)_ escorted the truck of criminals to Belle Reve, they were to give the swamp a proper inspection. 

 

As of at the moment, their team consisted of Tigress, Robin, Miss Martian, Superboy, Static, and Bart himself—Kid Flash. Aqualad wanted as many experienced powerhouses on the team he could have—the senior members, Robin for tracking, Kid Flash for rounding, and Static to reinforce the shocks of the inhibitor collars as needed. Superboy, Robin, and Kid Flash surrounded the truck on bikes. Miss Martian flew camo-mode, and Tigress and Static monitored from inside.

 

 _‘What happened?’_ Bart asked through the mind link, head cocking up as he heard a painful grunt. He arched an eyebrow beneath his helmet and looked over to Robin, who smirked. There was a surge of irritation that flew through the link, definitely from Tigress.

 

 _‘Punched Icicle Jr. in the gut,’_ Artemis grumbled. _‘I swear if he hits on me again, he’s losing an arm.’_

 

Bart frowned protectively, hands gripping the handle bars with nervousness. _‘I’ll make sure of it then._ ’

 

In the corner of his mind, there was a definitive laugh that teemed from Static. Virgil’s amusement flowed through the link, followed by a solid _‘ow_ ’ that probably meant Tigress elbowed him. _‘I’m just saying—that **was** pretty cool, man.’ _

From above, there was a positive giggle that came from Miss Martian. She wasn’t easily seen—not when it was already this dark outside. There was still thirty minutes of travelling on rickety roads before they would reach their destination. Once _that_ had been explained, Bart tried his best not to die of boredom. Their starting point had been specifically two hours ago—with no attack, no ambitious. The path they had turned away from industrialized roads into a gravel one that went across forest land and water. Far away, so Belle Reve was not touchable by stragglers.

 

Kid Flash broke out of his ministrations and looked away when the engine of another bike spike toward him. Robin smiled at the corner of his eye.

 

Even under the visor and his mask, Tim managed to arch an eyebrow of concern. He drove close enough that they were in hearing distance. “You okay?”

 

“Yeah? Fine.” Bart frowned. “Why?”

 

Quickly the Boy Wonder looked over his shoulder, where Superboy had been designated to watch the truck from the back. He managed to steer perfectly without bumping into anything—then looked over again. “You haven’t complained once about having to take this long to get somewhere. And…that crack with Artemis?”

 

Blink. “I…needed the thinking room.” The younger teen shrugged jerkily and bit the inside of his mouth. He squeezed the handle bars tightly and felt the machine hum beneath him. “Artemis…told me that tonight, after the mission’s over, she’s…uh. She’s going on a date with Kaldur.”

 

“Oh,” was Tim’s immediate reply. His tone dropped in surprise, then looked back up. “To see if you were okay with it?”

 

“Yeah. Well—I mean, it’s just a date. Why wouldn’t I be?” Kid Flash averted his eyes and looked at the statistics on his machine. He swallowed hard, bit the inside of his mouth, and hiked on his seat, even if it was dangerous. “It’s…been a year already.” _Since Wally died._ “I don’t have jurisdiction on whom she can and can’t date.”

 

“Jurisdiction?”

 

“Noun. The official power to make legal decisions and judgments.”

 

“I know that.”

 

“’Course you do.” Bart cocked his head hesitantly and scanned the wary teenager. His eyebrows furrowed together and he reached to brush the hair out of his face—before remembering he was wearing a helmet.

 

Robin’s smile softened. “For what it’s worth, you’ve made a good Kid Flash.”

 

“Thanks.” Twitch. The speedster pivoted on his seat and dug his feet into the pedals. Robin gave him a look—one that managed to calm him down since before. “And I mean—you’re right. Like, _sheesh_ , we’ve been driving for two freaking _hours_ now—and you’d think that we’d run into a fast food restaurant somewhere in the middle of the swamp-lake thing, because those things chain. And like, chain a _lot_ , man. Did you know they make McDonalds on cliffs now? Because that has to violate at least four safety codes, y’know?”

 

“I know,” Robin responded. His demeanor remained placid before he turned his head back to watch their route.

 

Bart did the same, silently watching the other teen from the corner of his eye. After that, the mood of the mission seemed to shift back to the mission at hand.

 

 _‘How are the villains reacting? Static? Tigress?’_ Miss Martian’s voice went through all of them.

 

 _‘No one is acknowledging one another. Other than **Junior** , who is **seriously** about to lose an arm.’ _ Artemis’s scowl could be felt through all of them. _‘We’re arriving at Belle Reve soon. So far no activity.’_

_‘The swamp sight where the last transportation vehicle toppled over is coming up. Looks like no one bothered to go fishing and pull it out.’_ Robin cocked his head. In the grassy marshes, bits and pieces of metal floated across the swamp like an odd pathway. The broken down truck had clearly been forced open, with its door tossed at the other end of the swamp. Their current mode load of villains passed over a cement bridge, which linked their road to Belle Reve. The Boy Wonder steered left, then halted at the edge of the marsh. _‘Permission to stop and inspect?’_

_‘Permission granted. Robin, Superboy, and Kid Flash stop at the bridge to retrieve the automobile. Megan, keep flight above.  Virgil and I will escort the criminals personally to the authorities.’_

_‘Roger.’_

All three boys spared a look before stopping at the edge of the swamp. Finally, Kid Flash dismounted from the bike and drew pleasure from finally being able to stretch his legs. He pulled the helmet off his head and joined the pair at the edge.

 

Superboy splashed into the marsh in order to retrieve the vehicle. Robin ducked down to examine the coastline. The speedster ducked down with him, if only to be helpful. “What’s the verdict?”

 

The Boy Wonder shook his head thoughtfully, eyebrows wrinkling together. “No memorable footsteps, no dropped item as a lead. It’s been a week since the last attack—a lot of evidence may have been lost since Aqualad was waiting for this mission to go under cover.”

 

“Most of the vehicle is basically covered in moss now.” Superboy hauled the truck onto land, wrinkling is nose as he was covered in green vegetation from the feet up to his stomach. “But you can tell the door was forced open. By an explosion, from the looks of it.”

 

“Can’t be.” Tim frowned, looking over to the remnants of a metal death trap. He ran his fingers along the crooked lines at the end of the truck. “Explosions would imply gunpowder. Nitric oxide—something.”

 

“Uh…dude?” Both Superboy and Kid Flash blinked.

 

Robin propped himself into the inside of the truck, the holocomp appearing in front of him. “The direction of the dent of the door would also imply an external force.”

 

“So…?” Conner frowned, picking up the said door lithely in one hand.

 

The dark haired teen popped his head out and shook his head. “No man-made bomb. No tools. Not an explosion I know about.” 

 

 _‘M’gann. Anything on your end?’_ The senior member crossed his arms and looked between both boys doubtfully.

 

 _‘Nothing. No attempt at kidnapping the villains.’_ Miss Martian’s voice echoed in their heads. _‘We’re at check out. The guards described the miscreant as…a yellow blur?’_

_‘Yellow blur?’_

_‘Looking at security footage now. The guy’s hard to catch on camera.’_ Virgil spoke next. _‘So…yeah. Yellow blur. Kind of freaky, too._ ’

 

“So the mission’s a bust.” Kid Flash cut all of them off and crossed his arms in frustration. Both Superboy and Robin looked to him in surprise, and the brunet could only shrug. “We get here, got rid of the villains, and can’t even find evidence for who stole the previous set last time. No information to bring in.”

 

“We’ll bring the vehicle in for further investigation by Batman and the League.” Superboy curled his hands into fists and shook his head. “Breaking out of Belle Reve is a serious problem. Breaking in—even more. And people intercepting—”

 

“Is bad,” both Robin and Kid Flash said in unison. The pair looked at each other, expressions mimicked. No doubt Tim was feeling the mode from not being able to figure out the case, too. This only added to Bart’s frustration with Artemis’s plans after the mission.

 

 _‘If that’s all we’re here for,’_ their leader announced quietly in their heads, _‘then we can still consider the mission a success. Safely transporting villains to Belle Reve without—’_

A humming of energy suddenly caught Bart’s attention. He cocked his head to the side—suddenly feeling the hairs on his arms stand erect. Which—it shouldn’t have, given he was mostly covered from head to toe. Green eyes darted back and forth—and the heavy rise-and-fall of a pair of feet struck his ears.

 

“You guys feel that?” Bart swallowed hard.

 

“Feel it?” Superboy frowned. The senior member of their trio’s eyes darted to the left, and he grimaced. “I can _hear_ it—”

 

**_WOOSH_ **

 

Yellow Blur was right.

 

Bart felt the air disappear from his lungs instantaneously. Through the trees burst another figure too fast for any of them to see—who sliced through the grass and marshes, knocked them to the ground, and circled the swamp. In a matter of seconds, a cyclone of muddied water surrounded the holding facility until it was forty feet high—and shot through the air.

 

“Look out!” Superboy shouted over the whir of energy, just as Kid Flash hollered, “TIDAL WAVE!”

 

Water exploded above and collapsed above them. The tall meta grabbed both teens and torpedoed out of the area, ducking under one of the trees.  Water splashed onto the ground like giant fireworks—and all Bart and Tim could do was hide under Superboy’s arms as shallower water splashed them head to toe until they were sopping wet.

 

The brunet gasped for air and scaled up the bigger hero until he could reach a branch, then pulled Robin and Superboy up with him.  They climbed the tree until the water receded back into the swamp—then watched the yellow blur shoot into Belle Reve.

 

No way. Bart choked on swamp water.

 

Robin twitched, arms tight over the tree trunk. “Was that a—”

 

“Speedster,” Conner completed, shaking the water out of his hair with a grimace.

 

“Looks like my time to shine then.” _Zip!_ Bart pulled the goggles over his head, staring off at the trail the yellow blur had made in shock, and squeezed the mud out of his hair. He jumped onto the ground and landed on his feet, then sprinted across the length of the cement bridge, his mind whirling in disbelief. Behind him, both Superboy and Robin demanded that he stopped—something he was actually _really_ bad at.

 

_‘Robin to Tigress: looks like we’ve found the **source** to that Yellow Blur.’ _

“What the—”

 

Bart was in the room in a matter of seconds. He may have been caught off guard by the sudden attack from Mister Yelow Blur guy, but following the path behind him was no problem. Wind whistled at his ears and his eyes darted around in surprise. The yellow blur knocked Miss Martian over—a kick to the stomach and then a knee to the jaw. The security guard was lifted up in the air—and thrown into the ground.

 

_‘Tigress to Robin, it’s— **speedster?’**_

****

_‘TIGRESS!’_

Nousenousegottathinkfaster. Bart’s throat dried. He saw the quick hits to trip Artemis. She drew a sword in order to combat the Blur—and was lifted up into the air. Static picked up a nearby metal object and flung it at the blur—and for a moment, Bart could actually see him.

 

A man who looked like the Flash.

 

Kid Flash nearly ran into a wall out of shock when he finally entered the room. The Blur was a man—one that had to be in his twenties, at least, in a lightning yellow suit that whirred with electricity and blood red wing-tipped ears and even bloodier boots. On his chest was the Flash Family insignia—dead black, and a crimson lightning bolt that made Bart sick to his stomach

 

“Grandpa?” Bart called out instantly, eyes widening. He skidded to a halt.

 

Suddenly the man’s gaze snapped over, making him wince. A terrible smirk curled across the Blur’s face and— _no, definitely not Grandpa. And—_

 

“LET GO OF HER!” Bart snapped back into hero made and charged toward the pair. From the corner of his eye, Tigress gasped for air before whipping out a TASER—which she never had the chance to use. The Man in Yellow plucked something out of her utility belt and flung her across the room.

 

“This is _not_ cool,” Virgil shouted. He charged a metal container and threw it toward the man.

 

Who definitely had more gymnastic training than the younger speedster could give him credit for. The Yellow Blur grab a hold of the metal container and stood perfectly still in the middle of the arena.  A grin carved across the Yellow Blur’s face and he flung it back. Virgil dodged, taking flight in the air above him with a metal disk beneath his feet.

  
Bart rushed over to Tigress’s side as Miss Martian helped her to her feet. Artemis groaned, rubbing her head out of pain and looked to him warily. “Friend of yours?”

 

“If he is, I’ve got a lousy taste in friends,” Bart spat back. He scowled. “You okay?”

 

“Knocked out of the battle, not for the count.” Artemis scowled beneath her mask and whipped out a bolas. “You learn a few things after dating a speedster for five years.” _‘New Battle Plan. Megan, read his mind.’_

Miss Martian took flight in the air next to Virgil and forced the Yellow Blur into the air. Her eyes glowed green, red eyebrows scrunched together and— _‘No good. Lots of…mental blocks. Psimon’s doing, I think. Got a name though—Zoom. Looks like he’s planning on taking them to… **Deathstroke**?’_

_‘ **Deathstroke?’**_ “Not if _I_ have anything to say about that.” Artemis whirled the bolas in her hands.

 

A smirk etched across Zoom’s face—so wide, even Bart could see from the ground. He curled his first two fingers into an anchor, mimicking a _come-hither_ gesture toward Miss Martian—then made kissy noises.

 

Okay. Ew.

 

 _‘Megan—’_ Tigress whipped out an inhibitor collar and flung it through the air. It floated into Miss Martian’s range of telekinesis, with the discomfort almost as obvious as Tigress’s hate for Junior. No traction under his feet meant that Zoom couldn’t move.

 

 _‘Nice job,’_ Virgil grinned.

 

“You’ve been giving the league a lot of trouble,” Miss Martian pointed out. Her eyes narrowed to Zoom—who only grinned.

 

Suddenly the yellow speedster whirled his body, hands rotating in twin axels. Duplicate cyclones appeared in their place and hit Miss Martian square in the face. Falling backward in the air, she cried out in pain while Zoom mimicked the actions to land on his feet.

 

“Hey! You’re not the only one that can spin tornadoes, _buddy._ ” Bart dashed straight back into the line of fire and pivoted on his feet until he spun like a top. From the corner of his eye he could see Zoom stare back—lucid, with his lips turned into a straight line. The Yellow Blur mimicked his motions, spinning counter clockwise toward the younger speedster.

 

They collided straight into each other. Pain struck the brunet straight in the jaw like he’d been knocked over by a wrecking ball. He upped his speed with a grunt, driving against the man in yellow, and attempted to deliver the punch to stop his rotation. Up close, he saw the oblique white opaque lenses of the man’s costume, followed by the sickening stormy yellow of his suit. Zoom sneered at him and rammed a foot into his revolution.

 

“Ah!” Falling to the ground, Bart smashed head first into the floor before Tigress jumped over him.

 

“You don’t actually think you’re going to get _away_ with this, do you?” She jutted an elbow into Zoom’s stomach and reached to kick his jaw. Zoom scowled, grabbing her by the arm, and clenched her throat between her hands. She whipped out a crossbow from nowhere and pressed it to his abdomen. A smirk curled across Artemis’s face. “I’ve got you.”

 

Zoom _tutted_. He wagged his finger—and before she could pull the trigger, he speedily grabbed the crossbow from her fingers and flung it across the sky.

 

“Artemis!” Virgil rocketed through the sky, fingers crackling electricity through the air. He zapped shots toward the sketchy speedster.

 

The Yellow Blur tripped Artemis ,kicked her out of the way, and dodged each shot. He rushed toward the fallen villains, whipped out the key that had been stolen from Tigress earlier, and ran straight toward Icicle Jr.

 

Junior frightened easily, eyebrows twitching. “You here to help us or kill us?”

 

The yellow blur looked back, the smirk carved across his face, and unlocked the handcuffs around his hands with ease. He did the same with the Terror Twins and Jinx—just them—and whipped out another device.

 

“He’s got a boom tube!” someone shouted in the air.

 

Groaning in pain, Bart immediately pushed to his feet and looked into their surroundings in confusion. Miss Martian had been slammed into the wall—with Tigress joining her. Superboy and Robin rushed into the scene, quickly gathering toward their fallen comrades while Static darted toward the man.

 

 _No way._ The young speedster jumped to his feet and darted toward Zoom just as he finished uncuffing the last of the villains. Zoom brought the boom tube to his mouth and muttered a destination.

 

Red and yellow energy burst in mid-space and hissed violently in the room. It took form of an entrance, six-feet high and six-feet wide in a perfect circle. The Yellow Blur jabbed a hand at the portal with a menacing smirk across his face.

 

“No!” Kid Flash jumped the man, lunging toward him with vivacity. He wrapped arms into a chokehold around the man’s neck and dug the back of his heels into the bigger speedster’s abdomen. Zoom toppled forward three steps—but it didn’t stop the freed criminals from stepping through the portal. It closed promptly right after Jinx stepped inside, and the Father box fell to the ground before smashing between their feet. “Now you can’t escape!”

 

“Kid Flash! Get down!”

 

Three birdarangs were thrown in their direction. Zoom turned into the line of fire, and— _SNIP. SNIP. SNIP.—_ all three of them dug into the man’s leg. Bart could feel the man take a moment to register the blades in his leg—before swirling to throw Bart off of him, and vibrating each wing out of his leg.

 

“Ah!” Bart coiled, tumbling three yards away from his previous sight. Zoom, on the other hand, vibrated through a wall and out of Belle Reve.

 

The entire structure of the wall trembled. Robin ran the length of the room to collect the team’s speedster, eyes narrowed unflatteringly under the mask. “You alright?”

 

“Yeah,” Bart breathed. He clutched his head, which now throbbed in pain from a hit to the floor. His gaze darted to the wall and the entire prison quaked. “But I don’t think— _Look_ _out_!”

 

**_BOOOOM_ **

****

The wall that Zoom had run through exploded, with plaster and metal structures shot in every direction. Kid Flash dragged himself out of the line of fire, scooping Tim as he did so. Beta stood to their feet, alert and aware with their eyes widened in shock.

 

_‘STATIC, MISS MARTIAN!’_

 

Before the explosion could kill them, both Virgil and Megan flew in. Virgil secured the metal binds with his powers, and Megan forced the explosion down with telekinesis. The wall was quickly reconstructed with a force field to secure it, and the lingering members of the team stood at the other end of the entrance. Kid Flash let Robin fall to the ground carefully and they watched the impact lessen. Fire alarms sounded, with sprinklers following and showering the fire that had appeared.

 

“No gunpowder, no chemicals,” Robin said. He secured a hand on Kid Flash’s shoulder, voice full of surprise.

 

Bart’s jaw tightened. He turned to Artemis, hands curling into fists. “You guys got things from here?”

 

Tigress nodded. “Yeah—”

 

 _“Good._ ” _ZIP!_

 

Bart charged straight after the other speedster, vibrating out of the wall that Miss Martian and Static were in the middle of painfully reconstructing. He kicked up his speed as fast as he could go and felt the energy coil in his belly as he darted across the cement bridge. First—he skidded to a halt, looking in every direction in effort to find the direction Zoom had bulleted through.

 

Explosions could be heard in the nearby forest.

 

Looking up, Bart was met with the sight of trees collapsing in the adjoined forest before exploding. Birds shrieked, flying into the sky and out of the battlefield out of fear, followed by other animals.

Weird. He darted after the speedster, the tension tight in his stomach, and rebounded through the forest.

 

Flash’s words went through his head— _always keep the goggles on. For debris—and for thermal heat signatures._  Bart’s heart throbbed in his chest as he found Zoom, running nearly half a mile ahead of him. The brunet darted forward, bringing his speed to a peak until Zoom and he were in breathing distance.  His lips curled into a smirk.

 

“ _HEY!_ ” He shouted—and immediately, the Yellow Blur looked back. An identical grin carved across his face, causing chills to bristle beneath Kid Flash’s suit. He sucked in a breath and trudged forward faster, with the electricity tightening at his ankles. “I bet you think you’re pretty sweet, don’t you? Running straight to Belle Reve— _my_ personal favorite hobby, knocking down _all_ of my friends, kidnapping our super villains for _who knows what_ and nearly causing the building to explode, huh? I’ll tell you what—” Kid Flash’s smile darkened, eyes narrowing to a glower. _“Not. Crash.”_

“Heh.” Zoom cocked his head to the side, with a smirk stretched across his face from cheek-to-cheek. Bart squirmed, feeling the wind slap his face from the adrenaline and pick-up of debris. They high-tailed it out of Louisiana—straight through Texas—New Mexico—California, and ran even faster.

 

Yeah—this guy could definitely keep up. Bart’s face scrunched. He maneuvered his foot in effort to trip the man and slow him down. Zoom jumped and gripped him by the arm.

 

“What—”

 

And smirked. The Yellow Blur upped his speed even _higher_ , knocking Bart off his feet and causing him to drag the younger speedster along the ground with him. Kid Flash shouted in surprise, then yanked himself up from the ground. He shimmied onto the man’s back and dug a fist into his throat.

 

Zoom made no noise, and instead stopped abruptly. He threw the speedster over his body, causing Bart to skid across the open street of Star City and slam into a car door.

 

Kid Flash let out a cry of pain, recoiled, and clutched his aching shoulder. He cocked his head up with a scowl on his face. Pain shot through his arm and pounded at his head, with blood dripping down the side of his face. Zoom, on the other hand, stood tall and firm.

 

Nearby people shrieked in fear and ran. The teen could hardly care.

 

The aches stabbed his arm from when Zoom had grabbed him—and he felt the strain whine at his feet. “Y-You must be pretty tough,” he stammered, and he trembled at his feet. “Don’t think I’ve ever had to fight a speedster before. Usually we’re pretty chill—pretty awesome. Crash. You know—speedsters are pretty _cool_ that way.”

 

A chill ran up his spine as Zoom smirked. Suddenly the man blurred—he shot down the street quickly, then jutted an arm at the younger speedster. Bart ducked and hissed—Zoom’s hand vibrated straight through the glass window—whichifitwasanythingliketheBelleRevewall—

 

_Ohcrap._

“GETOUTOFTHEWAY!” Bart’s hands phased through the door—if he could match the _frequency._

Zoom smashed the brunet’s head into a side-view mirror. Shards lodged themselves into Bart’s forehead, and he shouted weakly before falling face-first into the ground. Every part of the young speedster’s body went limp, and he shivered, hands burying into gravel.

 

The Yellow Blur turned him over. Green eyes gazed upward into opaque lenses, blood accumulating at the back of the speedster’s throat. A smirk coiled across Zoom’s face, no sweeter than the last. He reached out with a golden glove, with two fingers that touched the blood oozing out of brunet hair, and smeared it against the flesh of Bart’s face.

 

Kid Flash choked. He looked through hazed vision to the leer above him.

 

Zoom raised a hand and vibrated it straight through Kid Flash’s chest. 


	2. Round 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Now how about I show you _my_ moves?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Malin drew this [](http://media.tumblr.com/59d321a6f89b25d15dc8b24738bd7fb1/tumblr_inline_mkjjw8Usk41qz4rgp.png>awesome%20picture</a>%20to%20go%20with%20one%20of%20the%20scenes%20from%20chapter%20one!%20\(:)

The moment Barry received the phone call, he rushed out from Central City and zeta-beamed straight to the Watchtower. Aqualad barely got the words out of his mouth— _“Bart’s been hurt—”_ before he’d teleported himself to the Main-Op room. Both Tigress and Aqualad greeted him, worried looks across their face, and he demanded to see his grandson. His mind whirred with all of the horrible things that could have happened, and literally hand-in-hand, Artemis guided him to the medical wing.

 

Bart occupied a medical bed, with the Kid Flash uniform unzipped down to his chest. Bandages had been wrapped around his head, with obvious stitches above his eyebrows. His grandson’s face was swollen, with a bloody lip that was healing, and a sling held is arm carefully in his place.

 

 _“Kid.”_ Barry’s heart dropped into his stomach. He rushed over, looking down to green eyes as they stared back up at him, and crushed the boy in his arms. “ _God,_ are you okay? I—I got the call and I thought I _lost_ you.”

 

Around them, Wonder Girl, Static, Superboy, Robin, and Blue Beetle looked back with concern across their faces.

 

In his arms the teenager twitched, and finally, Bart used his good arm to hug back. “Yeah. I—I’m fine, Grandpa.”

 

“What _happened_?” It was an eternity before the man would let his grandson out of his grip. Looking at the boy only made Barry’s stomach quench—and without thinking, he rubbed the dry blood off the teen’s forehead. Bart’s eyes flickered hesitantly.

 

“The medication will not have any effect on him due to his metabolism,” Kaldur’s voice teemed from behind. “I would be careful if I were you.”

 

Flash frowned. God—just, looking at the way Bart _winced_ into himself and curled over in pain made him sick.

 

Yet, Bart didn’t falter. Instead, he looked back up to the Flash with tentative eyes and forced himself to sit up. “I—I got beat up. By a speedster. Someone that…th-that goes as fast as you and me.” He curled his hand over his head and made a small pained sound. “He vibrated a hand through my chest and tried to take my heart, b-but I matched frequencies in time to get out of the way. Never thought that would actually come in h-handy.”

 

A _speedster?_ “Kid,” Barry whispered quietly, and his eyebrows contorted beneath his mask. He placed both hands on either side of the boy, stared at him carefully, and looked back to Artemis’s direction. Tigress flinched under his gaze. “You’re not _serious_ , are you? There was…a _speedster_ involved?”

 

The blonde nodded stiffly. “He assaulted us while we were transporting criminals to Belle Reve.”

 

“His powers are different from yours and Bart’s,” Robin cut in. He pressed the R on his breastplate and a holocomp projected above him. The Boy Wonder grabbed the projection carefully with his fingers and turned it for both speedsters to see.

 

The images weren’t good—the yellow outline of a man as he blurred through a wall. Barry was able to make enough of the new speedster to make his stomach clench. The man was covered head-to-toe in a stormy yellow suit, with blood-red boots, accents, and winged-tips. Photos flickered across the screen to the man’s chest—where a perfect copy of Flash’s emblem could be seen, with a lightning bolt that was shaped well to look like a ‘Z.’

 

“He vibrates his molecules through objects and causes them to explode. No manmade bomb or even foreign tech that the league or Batman isn’t familiar with.” Blue screens appeared in the room, revealing a vehicle that had been forced open, and a news report of Belle Reve informing everyone of its explosion today. Robin’s lips curled into a frown. “It matches up. There were no traces of gunpowder at the site of either explosion. Madame Rouge was the only criminal that did not escape from the scene of the crime. He—or whoever he works with, is trying to build an army. With specific people in mind.”

 

“I rushed after him to see what his game was.” Bart touched Barry’s shoulder to garner his attention and bit the inside of his mouth. “I just—didn’t expect him to be that fast. I got cocky and he beat me up.”

 

Barry’s eyes narrowed. “You…said he vibrated a hand through your chest.”

 

Bart wouldn’t meet his gaze. “My heart stopped beating for like, a second.”

 

 _“Bart._ ” That was not okay. Before Barry knew it, he’d raised his voice, hands thrown up in the air and eyebrows furrowed beneath his cowl. “That is _not_ okay. Don’t _ever_ do something reckless like that _ever_ again, you got it? You could have _died._ ”

 

Silence.

 

The younger speedster shifted uncomfortably on his hospital bed, and not a word was exchanged in their small group. Looking back up tentatively, green eyes narrowed beneath the yellow cowl. “I’m sorry.”

 

The shame and frustration teemed in his grandson’s eyes, making Barry swallow hard. He pressed a hand to his face, weary and tired from the sudden news for the night, and pinched the bridge of his nose. Then, he, too, felt the guilt concoct in his stomach. “No. It’s—it’s not right of me to yell at you. I would have done it too. Wally—would have done it too, kid. Look, you…rest for now, and regain your strength. I’ll figure out how to explain this to your grandma, and we’ll go from there.” He turned to Kaldur, whose gaze flickered with hesitation. “The League— _I_ , personally—will further investigate this problem.” _And kick whoever’s ass was responsible for hurting his grandson._

 

“Very well then.” Aqualad nodded eloquently and turned to the group of teenagers surrounding Bart’s medical bed. “All other missions tonight will be postponed. Feel free to stay and care for Kid Flash as long as you like.”

 

Once that was said, Tigress walked over to pull Flash aside. “Can I talk to you?”

 

“Yeah. Sure—no problem. Wait. Robin,” Flash turned his head, quickly putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. The Boy Wonder looked back, clearly surprised by the action. “Make sure Kid Flash gets home alright. As a personal favor for me?”

 

Robin stared back at him, speechless. Bart, too, looked over with curiosity.

 

Flash’s grip only tightened, a small wary smile curling at his lip. “Robin and Kid Flash take care of each other. It’s…a tradition.”

 

Once that was said, both boys seemed to understand. Given the bothered look on Kid Flash’s face, Barry was sure that his future grandson needed someone to keep him company. _Especially_ in regards to this fiasco. He followed Artemis out of the room, hearing bits as the teenagers began to bicker about Bart’s current condition.

 

As soon as they were out of hearing range, Tigress pulled the mask off her face. Guilt radiated in her features, and the blonde looked up to him. “I’m sorry. It was my fault Bart got hurt during the mission.”

 

“You’re fine, Artemis.” Always. Barry shook his head and crossed his arms paternally above her. Still, reassurance in his voice evidently did not soothe her. Flash’s demeanor softened beneath his mask. “Look. I…know that you and Bart have felt the need to look out for each other. Especially since Wally’s death. You…know I don’t blame you. Either of you for what happens.”

 

“Barry—”

 

“Artemis.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and sighed softly. “You did what you could. You know that I would do anything for you. All I can ask of you now is to make sure you stay _safe_ while you’re out there and don’t be reckless unless necessary. It’s what he would have wanted.”

 

Silence. The blonde looked at him doubtfully from her position, and for a moment reminded the speedster of the young lady his nephew had brought home years ago instead of the woman that now helped commandeer the covert team. He loved her like a daughter. _Like…he’d love Wally like a son._ Finally, she nodded, though hesitantly, and looked back to the room where Bart was smiling too with his friends. “He’s certainly something, isn’t he?”

 

“He grows on you,” Barry agreed. “And if he doesn’t—well. That’s a lie. He always grows on you.”

 

Snort. “Ain’t that the truth.”

 

“He and I want what’s best for you too, Artemis. And for you to be happy.” The look he received next from the young woman made Barry smile. He squeezed both of her shoulders affectionately and let a smile curl across his lips. “Have fun on your date tonight, alright? _Don’t_ feel guilty about that.”

 

“He…told you about that?”

 

“We speedsters are fast on our feet. Doesn’t mean we’re any good with our mouths.” He placed a complacent kiss on her forehead like a loving father, and winked. (Though—that didn’t normally show under the cowl. Bats and he were still discussing designs for winking.) “You and Kaldur will make a great couple.”

 

Twenty-three and still blushing like she was sixteen. Kids. Barry couldn’t help the small laugh at the back of his throat.

 

The ex-archer looked up to him with mission-focused eyes and crossed her arms. “What are you going to do about the speedster problem?”

 

Right. The smile fading away from his face, Barry rubbed his temple and shook his head with frustration. The only speedsters he knew about were Jay Garrick, Bart Allen, and himself. There was…Wally, too, but he’d been there when his old partner died. Running right next to him and watching him fade away into nothingness. To have a speedster on the opposing team was…

 

Frightening.

 

“He nearly killed Bart.” Barry looked back to the blond and curled his hands into fists. “Can’t wait for him to show up again. Speedsters are tricky. I’m going to have to track him down.”

 

“Which…is nearly impossible, right?” Artemis frowned. “You and Bart move so fast that you’re nearly untrackable.”

 

“Nearly. Not entirely.” Flash bit the inside of his mouth, and a thought came to mind. “I’m gonna have to make a call.”

 

**xxx**

It was three in the morning, storming, in Bludhaven. Clouds overtook the sky, fat with rain and dark across the vast area. Streets were surrounded by small amounts of people, all holding umbrellas and bustling about. Dick had half the mind to sing _Singin’ In the Rain._

Raindrops kept falling on his head.

 

He stared out into the distance, gaze fixated on the people who were insane enough to stay awake. It wasn’t too long ago that he’d just finished up a case with Red Arrow. All that was left was for Nightwing to retire for the night—right after he finished his hot cocoa. He liked to watch the street lights as they reflected against the wet black asphalt and show the silhouettes of people as they joyfully laughed. The soft patter of feet to the ground, with the light _tap,_ tap as raindrops landed down below in a lulling cadence.

 

If Alfred were here, he probably would have gotten a lecture about sitting on a wet ledge when it was thirty-five degrees outside.

 

_No. Definitely would have gotten a lecture._

Two muggings and stopping a thug from robbing an old lady’s purse. Slow night.

 

He watched on top of a stone gargoyle from the Bludhaven Public Library, as the few people that walked in and out with books in their hands or…evidently alcohol. He debated stopping them—a few drunkards dumb enough to wander around the rain. So far they didn’t appear to be a hazard.

 

(Eventually—Dick caved in and cut them off an alleyway. From there he managed to swipe their phones, figure out a sober friend to call, and instructed for the poor guys to wait beneath a canopy for their friend to arrive before yanking out two rain ponchos for the pair. It’d been an inside joke for so many years between him and—well. It’d been an inside joke.) The sober third party stared at him in awe once she pulled up in a car and thanked him for rounding the two ‘idiots.’

 

After that, Dick opted it was time to sleep. Crime evidently stopped at four in the morning—at least, for now. He pressed a button on his glove to deploy his bike (three years, and still not a clever name for it. Tim advised N-Cycle sounded a bit too controversial) and threw away his empty cup at the library trashcan.

 

The hum of his bike caught his ears, and he trekked the length of the street to where his mode of transportation waited for him, parked obediently at the sidewalk.

 

“How come you don’t wear one of those ponchos?”

 

Nightwing stopped mid-step. He turned his head to a streetlight resting right next to a donut shop—where, Flash stood with a donut between his fingers. Amusement stretched his eyebrow. “Doesn’t that count as stealing?”

 

A smile etched across Flash’s face at the corner of his lip. “I left money on the counter. No Bat-Umbrella?”

 

“Hard to scale buildings in a poncho.” Nightwing shrugged and crossed his arms. “Slippery. What are you doing here?”

 

“Doesn’t rain much in Central City. Figured I’d be able to tap dance around Bludhaven.” The answer provoked a snort from the young twenty-year-old. Flash gulped down the rest of his donut and stood to his feet. Beneath the cowl his face was still cheerful—but Dick knew by now how to read his face. Especially Flashes. “I’ve been searching around all of Bludhaven. You know how hard it is to find you here?”

 

“Just got back from Star City not too long ago.” Dick shrugged nonchalantly, matching Flash’s demeanor. Still, the speedster in front of him continued to keep the lightheartedness in his tone. _No surprise._ This was the man that Wally got all of his humor from. “Was helping Red Arrow with a case. Tracking down his wife…that kind of stuff.”

 

“So you know what happened to Kid Flash.”

 

Blink. “No…what happened to Kid Flash?”

 

Finally, the good-naturedness disappeared from Flash’s face. He stood stiffly to his feet and looked around. “This isn’t a good place to talk. Is there somewhere else we could go? Like…a bunker or something?”

 

“My apartment’s not too far from here.”

 

“Good. I’ll run y—”

 

“I’ll drive, Barry.”

 

White opaque lenses looked at him in surprise. Dick figured not too many people turned down the chance (or had time to) to be carried by a speedster. He smiled evenly and missed the way the man’s eyes narrowed to him.

 

“Okay.” Flash flexed his muscles and stretched out his limbs. “Show me the way.”

 

The drive to the apartment was made in silence. Nightwing looked to the corner of his eye, to the worried expression across Flash’s face, but said nothing. Whatever had Barry spooked was clearly enough to keep him focused. He was different from his grandson—patient, going with the flow. Barry rarely let something bother him—and in a matter of a handful of minutes, he could have taken care of it.

 

Patient, sympathetic, caring.

 

Which definitely clashed with brash, _im_ patient, and a mouth that never knew how to shut up.

 

“How are the kids doing?” Dick asked when they finally reached his home. He shook the water out of his hair—and bit back a smile to the odd look Barry gave him for using the front door. Placing his riding helmet on a stool, he propped himself up on a chair and stared at the man. “The landlady is this old woman who bought the place out a few years ago. I’ve been helping her renovate it for a cheap lease. Not very many people live in the complex just yet.”

 

“Oh. Well.” Flash walked the length of the wooden floors, and his eyes fell to the picture frames hung up at the walls. “They’re doing fine. Their birthday’s in October, you know. You should come.”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

For a moment, the man simply walked. His eyes fell to a picture frame in particular—one that Dick knew instantly. He kept it on the kitchen counter to see every morning: one from Central City High’s Class of 2012 Graduation. He’d been cordially invited—and crashed the place, right in the middle of Wally’s valedictorian speech. The guy was stupid enough to cut himself off and go, “ _ROB! Where the hell have you been?!”_

 

“You missed out on the party we had in June.” Barry looked up solemnly and placed the picture back on the counter. “Artemis came. So did the rest of the team.”

 

Shrug. “Must have forgotten.”

 

 _“Dick._ ” Barry’s tone did nothing but cause the man across from him to shrug again. Flash looked up with eyes the old acrobat hadn’t seen with years, and curled his hands into the counter. “You and I both know that’s a cold lie. You’ve been doing this solo act for an entire year now. Your repertoire of references is longer than my arm.”

 

“Longer,” Dick quipped back, and he frowned when it didn’t evoke a smile. “Look—it’s not like I’ve completely stopped incorporating myself with the team or the league altogether. If the mission _needs_ me, I do it. Otherwise, I just—can’t. So don’t tell me that this is your attempt to recruit me and put me back on the team.”

 

He needed his space. For eleven whole years he’d been a part of the superhero community, with six of them had been spent with a team he founded—and nearly destroyed. At least if Nightwing worked by himself, there was a ninety-nine percent chance he wouldn’t be a screw up.

 

“It’s not.” The man shook his head and turned back to the twenty-year-old. “Kid Flash. Remember?” He explained what happened in thorough detail, described the injuries Bart received while on the mission with Belle Reve, and the man in the yellow suit.

 

Dick frowned.

 

“He’s definitely working for someone. Bart said he may have seen a collar around Zoom’s neck before the guy went off. Everyone he’s abducted from Belle Reve have been, in some point of time, associated with members of the Light.” Flash’s face contorted fearfully and he shook his head. “Having someone _run_ at that speed…it’s scary. Frightening, to think they’re on the other team.”

 

“You mean you’ve never encountered someone who shares your powers,” Dick translated. “Not someone that operated on the opposing side. And can cause explosions.”

 

“Speedsters are scarier than you think—especially when you can go toe-to-toe with one at their pace. I can be intimidating if I want to be, you know.” Barry waved a hand dismissively. “So will you help me?”

 

“I would have said yes without the long and winded explanation, Barry. Of course I will. Just.” The younger man wrinkled his nose, fingers curling in the seat beneath him. Without thinking he pushed a hand through damp hair and hesitantly stared back to the speedster. A look of confusion coiled across his face. “Why didn’t you ask Bruce first?”

 

“I did.” Flash’s look mimicked the acrobat’s own, with the quiet mirth visible on his lips. “He directed me to you.”

 

Oh. He blinked. The old acrobat’s stomach flopped and he curled his hands into fist. The voluntary enthusiasm disappeared for just a moment—and the look Barry gave him made Dick bite his lip. All the little memos Bruce had left him throughout the past year finally came back to mind—the little notes, asking him to come home. Not to do anything stupid. Find a way to get closure and start that uphill battle again, like when his parents had died. Because there was no way to change the past, Bruce had explained to him _years_ ago. Just to learn from it, and move on. This definitely wasn’t a message he was looking for.

 

_Thanks, Bats._

“Look, you two were best friends. Practically joined by the hip.” Barry met him by the counter and placed his elbow on the surface. He looked to the younger hero carefully. “I’m surprised I didn’t think of it first. I’m guessing you two screwed around with tracking a speedster down throughout the years.”

 

Well. “Essentially.”  

 

Immediately the speedster stood back on his feet, and his demeanor fell more seriously than the dark-haired man had ever seen him. Barry stood tall, and his eyes darted through the room. “Okay. So—where’s the computers? We’ll track this guy down—or his movement—or something. Where’s your bunker? Cave?”

 

Dick almost had to laugh. He hid a smile, instead gathering to his feet just as the Scarlet Speedster did and grabbed his keys. “No bunker. No cave. We’ll have to drop by the warehouse down by the beach.”

 

“Oh. Uh—‘kay.” Flash turned back around, clearly confused. “You don’t have a Nightwing Cave?”

 

 _Definitely_ the man Wally got his sense of humor from. The younger man had to shake his head and directed both of them toward the door. “Don’t need one.”

 

Twitch. Flash gave an irksome look.

 

“I’m not _Bruce_ , Barry.”

 

“I—never said you were.” Fortunately the man snapped out of his stupor before it could become a problem. Flash looked up to Nightwing, and he rubbed the back of his head cumbersomely. “Okay. Warehouse it is. And…?”

 

“Driving.” Dick held up his keys again and slowly opened the door. He looked over his shoulder, expecting the man to follow, but just as the rest of the night went, Flash gave him an odd, pitiful look.

 

“You know I could always run you.” Barry gazed at the younger hero as though he’d finally managed to find Dick’s pace. For a moment, he looked less like Flash and more like the uncle Dick had gotten used to over the years. He walked slowly to the younger man’s side and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Look…I know I’m not Wally, but…”

 

Dick placed a hand over his and shook his head. “You don’t have to console me like I’m Artemis. I’m fine, Barry. Really.”

 

“No. But I worry about you just like I worry about her.”

 

Silence. Honestly, the longer Nightwing had to deal with Barry’s presence, the less he felt comfortable in his skin. Dick jerked away from the speedster’s grip and started down the hall toward the stairs. He felt Barry’s eyes on him for the rest of the trek, and neither man said a thing.

 

Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the construction end of the boardwalk. The rain had let up just slightly, with a few awkward jokes to spare from the Fastest Man Alive. Dick welcomed himself into his second home, with a computer system almost akin to the one in the Batcave and seat that was waiting for him. Barry gave him one more silent look that made the teen feel thirteen again, and Dick pulled up all of his schematics.

 

Two screens appeared: a pan of Belle Reve tonight and another of Bludhaven only an hour ago when Flash had run to him. Both of them showed entrails of footsteps. Dick fiddled with the keyboard until everything was color coded, and isolated the ones he knew, then turned the screen over to the speedster.

 

“The red footsteps are Kid Flash. Yellow ones are Zoom.” Dick pointed to the other screen of Bludhaven and gestured to the particular set of steps that were left in orange. “This would be you.”

 

The look of disbelief across Flash’s face caught his attention when he didn’t get a response. Barry looked at the screen, clearly mesmerized. His jaw unhinged just slightly and he scanned the images. “That easy?”

 

“Not exactly.” Dick shrugged and bit the inside of his mouth. His stomach twisted discomfortingly in knots and he leaned back in his seat. “Wally and I may have screwed around when we tried yielding results, but nothing ever came from it. You’re right—speedsters are nearly impossible to trace. When Bart first arrived, the only way to track him down was for me to make him drink a subcutaneous microchip.”

 

“And…?” Barry gestured to the screen and Dick bit back the cruel smile that threatened to fall across his face.

 

“Wally and I planted some tracers around Central City one of the times I visited. Just some small ones to see if I could monitor him running around the block. We theorized that at the speed he was running, it may leave some sort of traceable disruption. We were wrong,” Nightwing concluded. “But. After the Invasion was over, the tracers we’d left in Central City went off when you or Bart went running across from them. The MFDs Black Beetle planted left some side effects. Nothing major. However the trackers pick up magnetic disruptions from organic life. I can pinpoint and locate speedsters. You, Jay, and Bart all had exposure to the MFDs, and in turn, make it easy for you to spot. Like you’re leaving small, residual disruptions as you run.”

 

“That’s…”

 

“Frightening?” Dick hid a grim smile and shook his head forlornly. “Don’t worry. I’m not interested in tracking you on a day-to-day basis.”

 

“And the points at Belle Reve and Bludhaven?”

 

“I’m not the only one who figured out how to track a speedster.” Snort. Dick shook his head and zoomed in on the blueprints of Belle Reve. “Believe me. Once Waller figured this out herself, she put it to her disposal. I’m sure she has the twenty-mile radius covered in trackers of her own design. She has a failsafe for all metahumans. Batman, too. You can’t enter Gotham City without passing over the trackers. I’ve only got a few entrances of Bludhaven geared up for this kind of thing. _Trust me_ —neither Batman nor I monitor yours or Kid Flash’s actions heavily. Not like this.”

 

“I trust you.” Flash scratched his head and looked over the results once more. “I just…maybe it’s a little bit more than I can handle in one day.”

 

“Sorry about that.” Nightwing looked at the man carefully from the corner of his eye, then pressed a button. A map of the country popped up with various cities highlighted in blue. “The rest have been installed in a majority of metropolitan areas or wherever a STAR Labs is located. If anything, it’s to work as checkpoints when a tracker from the League falls off you or Kid Flash.”

 

“So you can use this technology to track down Zoom?”

 

“Sort of.”

 

“Sort of?”

 

“I…can look into the metropolitan areas and see if I can find a pattern to his madness, given he broke into Belle Reve twice. But even for me that may take a while to pick apart the path that he’s taken. Speedsters aren’t the only ones that let off a small disturbance with their footsteps—everyone was exposed to the MFDs radiation.” Nightwing rubbed his eyes as he saw the disappointed look on the man’s face. He looked back up, meeting Flash’s gaze and gestured back to the screen. “Once that’s isolated, I can call you and theorize what his next plan of action is.”

 

“Okay.” Flash pressed a hand to his face. He looked over Nightwing’s shoulder, to the small analog clock that was barely visible on his computer system and cursed to himself. “Five in the morning. I should make sure Bart got back okay. And—god, explain everything to Iris. It’s…been a long night.”

 

“I can tell.” The younger man looked to him in amusement. His smile withered as he saw the Flash grimace, and he placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Look—don’t worry, Barry. As soon as I figure something out, I’ll call you, okay?”

 

“Yeah. I.” Flash twitched, fidgeting in his spot. His chest expanded as he heaved a heavy breath, and he placed a hand on Dick’s own. For the first time the entire night, he looked less anxious. “You’ve grown into a good man, Dick.”

 

Uh. “Thanks.”

 

“Wally would have been proud.”

 

Dick bit his lip and forced himself to keep gaze with the other man. His chest tightened and he made himself mutter another thank you. “I’ll…keep you posted.”

 

“Alright.” Flash retracted his hand, awkwardness appearing in his voice. He stepped aside slowly and stretched his limbs. “Uh, bye…Dick.”

 

“By—” _ZIP!_ “—e.”

 

The young hero stared at his computer screen and waited. Two minutes later, when the camera picked up a scarlet blur leaving city limits, and the MFD tracker picked up orange footsteps, he let out a sigh of relief. He could finally breathe.

 

Having duty with Flash was more nerve-wracking than any other hero in the past year. He’d fought alongside Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, Green Arrow—and plenty more, while yielding positive results. _But_ , he’d never screwed up and has one of their partners die. Having to fight with Flash meant ignoring the aggrieved looks Barry gave him, and the need to _tell_ Dick that Wally’s death was _not_ his fault.

 

 _Number One Rule to remember when you’re Dick Grayson:_ His best friend. His reign as leader. _His fault._

 

Artemis moved on by giving herself space as Tigress. By reinventing herself. Kaldur moved on by reminding himself he was the leader. So he could prevent the next death before it was a possibility. And—everyone else had no choice but to follow. Bart, especially. Dick made a mental note to make sure the kid was okay.

 

For now in present time, he sat at his computer and worked. He’d certainly earned a title recently in the BatCave as their workaholic. Coming from both his superior and old partners, even Dick knew he was spending too much time as Nightwing.

 

Which begged the age-old question: who was the real person, and who was the mask.

 

Nightwing surfed through the old data, dating back the past month in metropolitan areas. He stared at the maps of the South where Belle Reve was located and isolated separate patterns of the Zoom person, Flash, and Kid Flash. The latter duo’s steps were denser than most peoples’, since they had a high exposure to the bug when it had gone chrysalis.

 

However, so was Zoom’s.

 

A frown fell across Dick’s face and he stared at all three imprints at the same time.

 

The computer cut off his current train of thought. **_“Incoming magnetic disruption to Bludhaven.”_**

****

 Dick’s attention turned back to the screen earlier, where the signature of speedster feet appeared outside city limits. He sat higher in his feet and looked back at the clock. It was a quarter to seven—with the sun already rising high in the horizon. He mentally slapped himself, holding back a disheveled sigh. Looks like he’d pulled an all-nighter by accident. _Again._

 

However—he reached for his comm.-link. “Flash. I thought you already left Bludhaven.”

 

No response. Nightwing waited fifteen minutes—but of course, any sane person would probably have collapsed in bed after an eventful night.

 

He debated sending a signal—and stopped himself.

 

The last thing Dick needed this early in the morning (or this late at night, for him) was the mentor of his deceased best friend hovering down his neck. The thought of combating with Barry did little to settle his stomach.

 

**_“Incoming Police Report: Metahuman disturbance with traffic on 43 rd and Broadway.” _ **

****

Definitely wasn’t the Flash. Dick stood to his feet, equipped both utility belts to his waist, and pressed the comm.-link again, hesitantly at his ear.

 

He threw it on his chair, and left.

 

**xxx**

The sun nearly blinded Dick’s eyes in the morning as he shot through the streets on his bike. Streets slowly accumulated with cars, and people arrived to their jobs or left their apartments to catch a taxi. He groaned softly in pain, cringing beneath his domino mask from the cruel morning light, and kept a mental image of the sight of the disturbance. _43 rd and Broadway. _

 

Not too far from there was the Bludhaven-division of STAR Labs, with the Police Department on the other side of town. All criminals with metahuman powers were automatically shipped to Belle Reve or another facility where their powers were deactivated—so that ruled out the possibility of another break-in. The Light was crazy for sending their errand boy in broad daylight—especially here of all places. Then again, more skeptical things had been done.

 

What met Dick when he reached the sight of the police report shocked him.

 

Cars lined the streets for the following three blocks until they made a jagged circle at the site of an accident. A school bus and an SUV, from the looks of it. Fire ignited from the school bus, with screams of elementary students illuminating through the yellow vehicle. _Shit._

 

Nightwing dismounted from the bike immediately and reached for three explosive batarangs. There was a fire hydrant, only feet away from the—

 

A yellow blur whizzed past him and nearly knocked the young man over. It bulleted through the streets faster than Dick could even _blink_ and circled around the inflamed bus. _Taking away the oxygen and depleting the fire of its flames—_

What the…

 

That was his guy. For a moment the old acrobat watched in shock and fascination—because in a matter of seconds, the children floated out of the bus and were put on safer streets. The car door to the SUV was flung aside with a woman and man whisked off their feet from the seats, then placed right next to the children. The yellow blur pulled both vehicles apart until there was at least five hundred feet of distance between them. Then he disappeared.

 

**_“Incoming magnetic disruption toward STAR Labs.”_ **

****

No time to check if everyone was okay. Nightwing hopped back onto his bike and forced it onto full throttle. He rushed past the plenty civilians, pressed a button to notify the police, and rushed all the way to Bludhaven’s designated laboratory. The air rushed past his ears, with a flurry of anticipation and panic hammering his chest.

 

Did the _bad guy_ just…save the good guy?

 

STAR Labs would not be open for another hour. The streets were clear when Dick arrived at the small vicinity. Because of its location, this one was nowhere as big as the one in Gotham City, Central City—or for that matter, anywhere. The security lock on the gate had been eloquently opened—to make a quick and easy exit, as though nothing had been stolen.

 

Definitely the Light’s work.

 

He infiltrated the facility without much trouble and shot through every room as fast as he could. After all—how the hell were you supposed to outrun a _speedster?_

 

Zoom stood at the end of a room on the second floor with his back to the door. There was a bag slung over his shoulder—clearly packed with what he came for. So the Light was planning on building an army _and_ stealing chemicals. Looking at the man however, Dick forgot his train of thought.

 

The cowl was the same. With a sickening shade of yellow that seemed similar to Kid Flash’s, and from the images Nightwing had seen, he expected to see an inverted red and black lightning bolt on the man’s chest once he turned around. A speedster, running around in the same colors as the Fastest Man Alive. And in every sense of the word, this man looked like the Reverse Flash.

 

If this wasn’t a big slap in the face for Barry Allen—or the league, for that matter, Dick didn’t know what else could be.

 

He stood at the door, cautiously waiting with his hands grazing over his utility belt, and watched Zoom surf the room for every item on his grocery list. So far, Nightwing hadn’t been spotted. “You know—”

 

Zoom froze.

 

“—I always thought that saving people wasn’t part of the Light’s MO. Neither is showing up in broad daylight. Me following you here,” Dick continued, and he crossed his arms, “they’ll probably find a way to twist it and blame me.”

 

The way Zoom turned around was near inhuman. The man’s neck cracked noisily, and a chill ran up both Dick’s arms as they met gazes. Ghostly white opaque lenses, with straight-lined lips directed toward him. This man’s movements were livid, but his demeanor looked no better than a drone’s.

 

Nightwing placed even weight on both his feet, with the soles of his shoes touching either side of the door frame. He equipped himself with eskrima sticks, gaze narrowing harshly under his mask. “Looks like I’m your exit, buddy. Don’t know what your M.O. is, so I’ll just have to K.Y.A..” His demeanor darkened. “That means, ‘Kick Your Ass.’”

 

The Light’s New Lackey grabbed one more ingredient and threw it in his messenger bag. Then—to his surprise, Zoom bulleted straight toward the ex-Boy Wonder. Nightwing ducked his head as the man went for a punch and tripped him. Common sense: always go for the legs on a speedster.

 

Zoom fell onto his back with a sickening _crack._ Before Nightwing could go for another blow, the man flipped somersaulted to his feet and put distance between them. Nightwing stared back, jaw tight, and clutched both eskrima in twin fists. The Yellow Blur lunged forward and shoved Dick into a wall.

 

Bad idea. Nightwing choked on a breath and slammed his forehead into the other man’s. The man didn’t even cry out in pain.

 

He doubted he should have been surprised there—Luther, Savage, and the rest of the idiots that ran the evil board were merciless when it came to their pickings. Zoom was probably a result of drug experiments and some lowlife that got a high from harming others. That in mind, Nightwing wrestled out of the man’s grip and jabbed a batarang into the man’s side. Zoom looked down ( _didn’t_ flinch) to pluck out his injury, and the old acrobat wrestled the speedster into the cement wall.

 

Shelves came undone, with various beakers and test tubes that shattered on the ground. Nightwing toed one of Zoom’s Achilles tendons, and jabbed the end of an eskrima beneath the Yellow Man’s chin, with the other at his abdomen.

 

And just as Barry had promised, there was an inhibitor collar clamped around Zoom’s neck with three bright blue blinking lights.

 

A speedster, who doubled as an errand boy for the Light, sent Kid Flash to a _hospital…saved_ civilians, and…was a prisoner?

 

Dick dug the edge of his stick higher in Zoom’s pale flesh and searched the mask for any sign of recognition. For _any_ reaction. “Just…what _are_ you?”

 

A tiny smirk coiled across the other man’s face. “Not bad.”

 

Nightwing’s blood ran cold. _What the—_

 

“Now how about I show you _my_ moves?” Zoom slammed an elbow into the unsuspecting man’s stomach. He yanked the eskrima stick out of Nightwing’s grip, vibrated it in his hands, and threw it across the floor. Disoriented, Dick jumped back in surprise and a crater exploded beneath his feet.

 

Zoom gave him no recovery time, and instead circled the broken floor to slam Dick’s head once more into a wall. He punched the ex-Boy Wonder in the jaw four more times, until Dick could taste blood in his mouth.

 

The hero choked, and managed to yank the satchel off Zoom’s shoulders. “Wall _—”_

The speedster threw him into the crevasse. Darkness blinded Dick’s vision as his hands clawed the broken ledge of the lab room floor, and he looked up in awe and stun. Above him, Zoom bared his teeth and raised a foot to crush the hero’s fingers.

 

Suddenly the three lights on Zoom’s collar blinked, with the distinct buzz of a radio echoing through the silence. The Yellow Speedster perked, and the smirk disappeared from his face in place of something unreadable. He looked down to Nightwing’s bloodied face, scrutinizing the evident bruises he’d left. Then turned around.

 

Zoom grabbed his bag and zipped away.

 

**_Shit._ **

Shimmying to the ground above him, Dick’s eyes searched the broken clearing. Zoom was gone _. Dammit._ “ _Wally!”_


	3. Round 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Running alongside Flash in the past year had already been difficult enough. Bart knew he was pushing his luck when he put the Kid Flash uniform on. They went from being perfect, well-executed partners to two tentative people in costumes.

The next morning, Bart decided to take a visit to Gotham City. He’d stopped Grandpa earlier that night, when the Flash finally came home from visiting Bludhaven, but his mentor insisted he went to bed. It…wasn’t completely out of the question, Bart knew. Grandpa nearly lost his mind when he’d found out what had happened to his grandson. After Zoom had forced a hand through his chest, Kid Flash was disoriented for what seemed like an eternity, until Green Arrow had swooped in and carried him back to the Watchtower. It would be another day before he could make full use of his arm. Running was already weird enough.

 

(Though, at least he could lick his elbow now. He’d explained that to Tim when Robin escorted him home last night. Tim laughed. Not a long, winded kind of laugh, or even the snickers Jaime gave him whenever he did something considered ‘weird’—just. Timmish.)

 

The swelling went down on his face, and once he was able to shower all the blood off, Bart deduced he didn’t look nearly as ugly as he did being a bloody pulp. The look Grandpa Barry gave him once they set eyes on each other back at the Watchtower made him cringe. The second look—the doubtful, fearful look when Grandpa came home made his stomach hurt. Grandpa was worried he’d lost a second sidekick. Running alongside Flash in the past year had already been difficult enough. Bart knew he was pushing his luck when he put the Kid Flash uniform on. They went from being perfect, well-executed partners to two tentative people in costumes.

 

But—being worried went both ways. _Especially_ after Antarctica.

 

So before Barry was awake, Bart struggled to put on his uniform and darted through the country to reach Gotham City. He circled around the city three times and stopped short of the Wayne Manor. Pushing the goggles off his face, he reached the steps—and the door opened before he could reach the doorbell.

 

A tall man, dressed eloquently in a long black suit, stared back at him with a pointed face.

 

Bart blinked. “Uh…Batman?”

 

“If only.” A wry smirk curled across the man’s face. He opened the door wider for the speedster to enter. “Master Timothy is expecting you downstairs.”

 

“He saw me coming?”

 

“Hard to miss a boy running around in a mustard yellow suit.” The man gave him a contemplative look that made the teen bite his lip—then smiled. “Though I can’t say I haven’t _missed_ it.”

 

Oh. The young speedster blinked three dozen times, toes meeting together. “You…know I’m not Wally, right?”

 

“The same way Master Timothy is not Master Richard, son.” The man’s eyes glimmered mischievously and he started the path down the large hallway. “Come. The sooner you meet Robin, the sooner I will be able to start a morning snack for the both of you.”

 

“Oh, uh. Cool.”

 

Apparently the man’s name was Alfred. Bart did the instinctive thing when he was faced with a new person: talk. A lot. He rambled about the events from yesterday, starting from the color of the sun when they were given the criminals to escort to Belle Reve to the end, when all he saw was blood. To his surprise, Alfred said nothing except for the occasional quip he was sure counted as affectionate. They descended down a glass staircase—where, for the first time, Bart found himself in the Batcave.

 

It definitely sort of-kinda looked like a cave. With retro-high tech technology. There was a main computer system, like there had been at the warehouse. Various souvenirs, followed by giant sanctuaries decorated the walls. Bart stopped in his place when he saw a giant penny. And—“Is that a dinosaur?”

 

“Your detective skills are remarkable.” Alfred flashed another amused look.

 

Timothy— _Tim_ was sitting at the chair adjacent to the main computer, still in his pajama bottoms and a plain red t-shirt. For a moment, Bart did a double take. Tim’s hair. Tim’s face.

 

“Are those pokeballs on your pants?”

 

The other teen didn’t even flinch. He turned around, mirth clear across his demeanor. He still had bed hear, which under normal circumstances probably would have been considered cute. “They were Nightwing’s.”

 

“Nightwing wears pokeballs?”

 

“I think they were a gift from…” His voice trailed off. Tim crossed his arms and crossed a hesitant look.

 

“Oh,” Bart finished for him, cutting off their tension. The brunet found an ottoman to sit on—debated whether or not it was a regular souvenir or evidence—and sat down. “And here I thought Kid Flash was supposed to be the one to keep souvenirs.” His eyes scoped the room.

 

“Batman’s MO. You never know when you need a shard of evidence.”

 

“Creepy.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Silence. They stared at each other, with Bart perched on the tiny stool-rolly chair thing and Robin sitting in a comfy throne-office chair thing. Bart rubbed the back of his neck with his good hand. “How…are the arrangements going? You and Batman being…uh.” Father and son. He stared at his grimy yellow boots.

 

“They’ve been going,” was the other teen’s weak response. Tim’s eyes glazed over silently. No surprise there. Tim didn’t need the glasses to look intimidating—it’d only been a few months ago that Jack Drake had been murdered. When that happened, the entire Bat Family was distressed. It was the only time Nightwing had come back to the team to monitor his new little brother.

 

“I don’t think the ’moving in’ part helps very much. Now you get to be a freaky bat twenty-four seven—morning, noon, and night.” Bart fiddled with his sling, eyebrows stretching thoughtfully. “Pokeballs aren’t the first thing I think of with the Batcave—so, the place isn’t as intimidating. Maybe the second thing—but that’s because Batman could pass for a Zubat.”

 

“What does that make me?” A ghost of a smile stretched across Tim’s face.

 

The brunet squinted and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “A Taillow.”

 

“A Taillow.”

 

“Yeah. I had a long conversation about this with Wally one day.” Grinning excitedly, the speedster made tick marks with his fingers. “Batman’s a Zubat. Flash is a Raichu. Superboy would be a Treecko ‘cause he never smiles. Miss Martian would be Ralts because Gardevoir is gorgeous and dangerous. Gar would be that green monkey from Best Wishes.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Everything after Hoenn sucked though. Don’t know how it’s still playing in 2056.” As an afterthought, Bart added, “Ash is still ten. Evidently the Reach thought that Japanese-created, fictional animals were a good metaphor for their invasion.”

 

Robin snorted.

 

They waited a moment. Beaming at one another, Bart sat high on the ottoman. Slowly, he slunk back into the seriousness that had brought him here and cursed himself for getting sidetracked. His expression morphed, as did Tim’s, and they stared at each other expectantly.

 

“You didn’t run half a country to make fun of my PJ pants,” Tim deduced. He was smart that way. Bart fidgeted in his seat.

 

“Did Flash talk to Batman?” he asked. The brunet bit the inside of his mouth and tapped his foot into the ground. “He didn’t—last night, he didn’t tell me much of what was going down. I mean—he came home at like five in the morning but I’d think that wasn’t an excuse, you know? It’s—it’s the first time he got mad at me. Yelled at me, since—ever.” Bart had to reexamine the past year he’d remained with the Garricks and his grandparents. Everyone in his family held a calm demeanor—with none of them ever getting angry at him. Not like how Grandpa had panicked last night.

 

“You alright?”

 

“Yeah.” Bart broke through his thoughts before it could be a problem. He rubbed his previously dislocated shoulder and tentatively reached the eyes of the Boy Wonder. The brunet’s chest squeezed tightly and his good shoulder hunched to his ear. “I—Yeah. I…I think that Gramps has been scared about me. For me, since…Wally died. He’d just been bottling it up. Yesterday… _last night_ , he, uh. Didn’t want it to show. I don’t think he’s going to let me help him with this case. Not that I’ll listen—just. You know.”

 

“House arrest,” Tim translated for him. He crossed his arms mutually and tilted his head just slightly. “Sucks, doesn’t it?”

 

“Incredibly,” Bart agreed. He dragged himself over the leather seat. “C’mon, Rob. Robin. Robby. _Rob._ What do you know about the situation?”

 

Fortunately _Robby_ never found him a problem when he started babbling. Tim arched an eyebrow, the amusement oddly visible in his gaze (It was hard to remember this was the quiet, contemplative Boy Wonder that barely said a word during mission briefings. The guy had really come out of his shell since their _limbo time_ together. And—was staring at him funny now.) “Not much. I walked you home from the Watchtower, remember?”

 

“Oh yeah.” Bart scratched his head.

 

“But. Enough to know that he’s putting the case in Nightwing’s hands instead of his own. Batman recommended Flash to take the case himself.” A frown broke across Tim’s lips, disapproving. He pressed a button on the keyboard, and oddly enough, a screen of Zoom appeared. “It…hits close to home. I’m worried about him.”

 

Wait a minute. Wait, wait, wait—“Wait. So…you decided to spend the past fifteen minutes entertaining me instead of directing me to Bludhaven?” Bart stood to his feet and stared at the other teen accusingly.

 

“The computer picked up meta-human activity at eight o’clock in the morning. Batman is wary about this type of things. Consider it protocol.”

 

“And?”

 

Shrug. “I like the company.”

 

The brunet stifled a laugh. He grimaced, feeling an odd pain in his arm and rocked between his heels. Bart looked back up to the teen hesitantly—then ran the words in his head. He frowned. “Have you heard from him at all? Nightwing, I mean?”

 

The expression on Tim’s face faltered. More Robin, less Tim. His eyes saddened and he stood to his feet, standing parallel to the speedster in front of him. Tim grazed a finger over the keyboard again, shutting off the computer entirely. He looked reluctant to spill his guts—which was no surprise. Batgirl, Robin, and Nightwing were all close that way. “I have. But. He’s been stagnant. Nightwing puts a lot on his plate so he can keep himself busy. It’s…how he’s coped. That entire month he came back to the Team…he didn’t argue very much with Aqualad. Or voice his opinion. He was only there to keep an eye on me until I assured him I could handle things on my own.”

 

“Right.” Bart pushed the hair out of his eyes and rubbed it between his fingers. Then…stared at his glove. No one batted an eyelash whenever he became Kid Flash. They’d stared at him—Tigress had given him immediate approval. Flash, too. He spent the year trying to earn the name and fill in the legacy the first Kid Flash had left behind, yet he’d still had a hard time working up the nerve to see Nightwing. It was hard to stand there and swallow down his nerves, to see Nightwing’s reaction.

 

“Batman recommended Flash to Nightwing because he knows speedsters better than anyone.” Tim crossed his arms. “But it’s a bold, tactical move on his part. So Nightwing can deal with it.”

 

“Yeah…but this is the guy that’s been avoiding responsibilities for the past year. And—we’re talking about someone that affects _my_ family. Violently.” Bart’s lips contorted into a frown.

 

Tim may have been the one with an unresponsive brother, but Bart was there to take note of Nightwing’s behavior, too. The Senior Members never brought him up during missions or briefings. They thought it better to move on with their lives. One would have thought that Nightwing never existed, if he wasn’t so famous in the superhero community.

 

“Look,” he started again, and this time he started for the door. Bart ran a hand through his hair and let a strained sound come out of his mouth. “I came here to see if I could annoy Batman into telling me what’s up with Zoom. If Nightwing’s got all of the answers, then I’m running to Bludhaven. You coming with?”

 

Oddly enough, Tim was surprised.

 

“You’ve got a psychotic brother that’s helping out my grandpa, and I’ve got a grandpa who’s potentially facing his biggest baddy ever and won’t tell me about it so I don’t die.” Bart twitched. His expression faltered and he bit his lip. “Plus—Nightwing’s kinda scary. I, uh. Could you be a buffer?”

 

He could have sworn Robin the Boy Wonder laughed.

 

Thirty minutes later after Tim changed into a pair of civvies (and convincing Bart to do the same) they sat down to eat Alfred’s “famous buttermilk pancakes and Belgian waffles.” They weren’t really from Belgium—Bart had gotten kicked out of there once for almost causing an international incident and eating out an All-You-Can-Eat-Buffet. Alfred was wise, with the intelligence and knowledge gleaming in his eyes as he addressed the both of them. He smiled at Bart especially—and it took a moment for him to realize Wally probably used to visit a lot.

 

Tim seemed to be adjusting well. He wasn’t known for his mental breakdowns, so—he was adjusting. Bart was able to look across the table and get a chary smile in return. Given they were in the same age group, he realized he was eating brunch with his squad leader.

 

After that, they decided the best route to get to Bludhaven.

 

“I contacted Nightwing. He’s been at the warehouse all morning trying to solve this case,” Tim explained. They made their way back down to the BatCave, with Alfred leading their charge. Tim looked over to Bart, scrutinizing him thoughtfully. His eyes fell down to the sling over Bart’s arm beneath his shades. “We’ll have to take the zeta-beam. We’ve got one built into the BatCave.”

 

“Right.” Bart wiggled around the sling and felt the dull ache in his shoulder. He bit his lip nervously. “I’d uh—well, I’d run you. But. Yeah.”

 

“Not a problem.” Being half a head taller, the tiniest hint of a smirk curled across the other teen’s face.

 

“I’ve set the coordinates to Bludhaven, Master Timothy.” Alfred spared both teenagers a look over his shoulder. Amusement teemed across his demeanor, and he scanned both of them. Weird. “Kid Flash and Robin reeking insurmountable havoc. Though I suppose with a good head on your shoulders, I needn’t worry much.”

 

“Did he come with a British accent?” Bart stood to the tip of his toes and whispered in Tim’s ear.

 

The current Boy Wonder shrugged. “Yes.”

 

Once they were deployed (Bart scribbled out the word from his vocabulary—this was like, a civil visit. To someone who used to operate a team consisting of the Justice League’s semi-professional, adolescent partners) they found themselves in the middle of town. Tim assured him walking to the warehouse would not take long. Surprisingly, Tim was good conversation—after Bart babbled statistics about Bludhaven and compared them to Central City. Somehow it went from civil conversation about metropolitan areas to Pokemon. (Tim was a dork—Bart wasn’t sure how he hadn’t seen that in the past.)

 

The warehouse entrance had been recklessly left open. Now that the Team was located on the Watchtower, those who lived at the warehouse were too. Bart frowned—and so did Tim, when he looked over.

 

“Dick is precise,” the Boy Wonder pointed out. He shut the warehouse door behind them and started a faster pace toward the command center. “Either someone ambushed him here or he’s wound up in a case.”

 

“The more I hear about your brother, the less I trust him with—”

 

“You can trust him.” Tim cut him off. Though—both of them broke into a sprint.

 

They found Nightwing, still dressed in uniform and staring intently at the computer screen. Bart spared one look at the computer screen and felt his heart drop into his stomach. _Anarctica._ Cold brisk snow as it howled into their line of vision and thick heaps that were near impossible to look at. Himself, as Impulse, and Flash rushing around the MFD that had gone chrysalis—when the world was in danger over a year ago. His jaw tightened, and he rushed over to his old team member.

 

“Whatareyoudoing?” he demanded, and Bart swallowed hard, the instant a yellow blur zipped across the screen. He gripped Nightwing’s chair with a scowl forming across his face. Green eyes flitted back and forth from the screen to Nightwing’s poker face and the anger boiled in his chest. “What gives you the _right_ to look at—”

 

Nightwing held a hand up. Beneath the mask, his eyes remained glued to the screen, his brow wrinkled together intently and lips curled into a tight frown. Behind both of them, Tim walked up to greet his brother. He opened his mouth to speak—and was promptly shushed by his big brother.

 

The scene played out in front of them, showing the cyclone as all three speedsters circled the chrysalis counter-clockwise. It had been recorded by a third-party camera—probably the best they could get from an orbiting satellite. Two red blurs and a yellow blur circling around the machine. Bart held his breath, _feeling_ the strike of excess energy as it slammed into Kid Flash. The…old Kid Flash. First Kid Flash.

 

He could still remember the deafening buzz in his ears and trying to make out what Grandpa Barry was saying to him. Something about Wally.

 

Then—nothing. The yellow blur disappeared, followed by the air in Bart’s lungs. He reorganized his thoughts and hoped the pain didn’t show on his face. A hand rested on his shoulder, and looking over, he was met with Robin’s hard demeanor.

 

“Pause,” Nightwing announced. The computer did just that. “Rewind to point before Kid Flash is disintegrated.” Bart cringed at the word. The computer did just that, with stills of all three blurs apparent on the screen. Nightwing pressed buttons on his keyboard and his face scrunched together troublesomely. “Slow down the video by four-hundred percent.”

 

The hologram followed in suit, automatically adjusting the form of all three speedsters. Sound was cut out. Even after the adjustment, the men on screen went at a pace faster than an Olympic runner. Nightwing was obviously frustrated.

 

“You seemed distressed over the phone,” Tim said finally. He eyed his elder brother warily and messed with the computer himself. The crazy part was, Nightwing didn’t seem to mind. Looking in between them, one could assume their trust and relationship ran deeper than what you saw on the field as two partners. His demeanor flickered disapprovingly. “Dick, how long have you been watching this video?”

 

“Three hours.” Dick pressed a hand to his face and pushed the hair out of his eyes.

 

“You haven’t slept yet, either.”

 

“Please.” Nightwing’s voice teemed with exhaustion. “Staying up past forty-eight hours is one of the first things Batman teaches you.”

 

“Yeah,” the young teen agreed. “But you’re not Batman.”

 

Apparently that was the safe word in the household. Bart watched between the both of them, with the sudden silence and tension in Nightwing’s stature before he pulled away from the computer screen. The man turned around to face the both of them with an unruly frown, and looked down to Bart. The speedster fidgeted.

 

“You’re working on the case for Flash, right?” Bart swallowed his nerve and curled his free hand into a fist. “I want to know what’s up.”

 

“Nothing.” Nightwing turned his head back to the computer and continued typing. Great.

 

Slinking into Tim’s personal space, Bart nudged him awkwardly with his good arm. Quietly, he whispered, “I don’t think he likes me very much. What makes him so qualified to hunt down Zoom anyway?”

 

Even Tim looked unconvinced. He leaned in toward the speedster and crossed his arms warily. “He _did_ immobilize you within the first ten minutes of your arrival.”

 

“What—oh.” February 28th—they actually celebrated it as a holiday this year. Lips contorting into a frown, Bart shook his head in agreement. “Only because you and BB couldn’t do it. Besides—it took him _ten whole minutes_ to restrain me. Plus—I vibrated out of those cuffs. I could have done that at any time.”

 

“He still chipped you.”

 

“ _Gah._ ” Bart pushed a hand through his hair and scowled discontentedly. His eyes fell to the leather chair that stood between the both of them, where all he saw was the back of Nightwing’s head. Biting the inside of his mouth, the speedster turned fully to his friend and shifted between his feet. “I just think he knows…he doesn’t expect—you know. For me to be anything like Wally. Or better. Just as good, either.”

 

Who else better to talk about this than the guy that inherited the Robin title twice over? Tim looked over to him with surprised eyes. It was probably why Bart had no trouble talking to the other teen, even after gaps between missions together. Tim _got_ it. “I don’t expect you to be anything like Wally either. You don’t have the height for it.”

 

“ _Okay_ , thanks.”

 

A sigh left the Boy Wonder’s lips, and he made a point to pull the speedster aside. Tim flashed a look between the dinky leather chair and back to Bart, with both hands on either side of the shorter teen. “Look—after a while, you stop comparing yourself to the guy who wore the mask first. Because that’s not why you wear it. You take the title to honor that identity.”

 

“How long did it take you to feel comfortable?”

 

Tim bit the inside of his mouth, fumbling debatably. “Eleven months.”

 

“Oh.” As far as Bart had known, the New Year had stricken an entire two years that Tim was the third Robin. He wasn’t even sure how long the last guy had the mantle—or, for that matter, how he was affiliated with the League anymore. Scratching his head thoughtfully, he was met with Tim’s expectant gaze. “If…it makes you feel better, I don’t think you act anything like Nightwing either. You talk less. And I like you more.”

 

“Much appreciated.” Tim looked to him dryly.

 

“Robin. Kid Flash.” Both boys perked and turned around as they heard their names called. Nightwing looked over his shoulder, the whim apparent across his face even Bart could catch. His tone was even, but the stress remained across his face from whatever his project was. “Can you hear me?”

 

Bart and Tim both looked to each other. Then in unison they replied, “Yes.”

 

“Then I hope you realize that means I can hear you too.”

 

Oh. Boy boys blinked repeatedly before returning on either side of the first Boy Wonder. Tim sidled against the seat, where from the looks of it, Dick had reached the conclusion he was looking for. The right formula of slowing down their moving formula seemed to be reached. The images were blurred, with none of their faces to be seen, but Wally’s shape was apparent. And then transparent.

 

“You were supposed to be looking for Zoom,” Bart pointed out. He frowned again, doing his best to cross his arms, but it looked silly with the sling. This time, Nightwing spared him a look, which only irked him more. “Why are you looking at pictures of my dead cousin?”

 

“Because I figured something out that wasn’t evident when he first died.”

 

“Uh. What?”

 

Dick replayed the video and curled his hand over his bicep. “The MFD that went chrysalis back in Antarctica should have disintegrated him because of the blow. The Magnetic Field Disruptor, just like the name says, was meant to disrupt the earth’s magnetic field and cause the planet to collapse on itself. If it built up enough energy. No one ever looked into what it would do, should someone be exposed to its radiation.”

 

“The correct assumption would be that the person in question burned up from the energy,” Tim pointed out.

 

“But we’re dealing with alien tech. _Not_ an earth-made magnetic field disruptor. For all we know, it would be plausible for someone to turn into a pile of alien bunnies. Besides.” Dick pulled up the screen with the transparent speedster and shook his head. “Kid Flash—Wally didn’t burn up in the atmosphere. He evaporated. Faded out.”

 

“Maybe that’s just the alien-way that someone dies.” Bart’s eyes narrowed, and he ran the conversation through his head. Most of it he didn’t understand—but enough of it that Tim and Nightwing were making faces at each other. Bats making faces at each other never meant anything good. “What’s this supposed to prove anyway?”

 

They looked to him, eyes hollowed out and faces somber. Unsure of what he’d said, Bart turned his head to focus on the recording. Looking at old tapes of Wally had never put his mind at ease. He was alive and for the most part, livid in these tapes. It was only an off button away from reminding everyone that Wally West ceased to exist.

 

“Don’t worry about it for now,” Dick said quietly, and he slid his current project away. In its place were various snapshots of Zoom—all, from the timestamp on the left corner, that apparently happened this morning. “I had a run-in with Zoom this morning.”

 

“Seriously?” Bart turned over to Tim, eyes wide with disbelief.

 

His friend only shrugged, smugness curling at his lip. “Told you he was good.”

 

“It was a drive-by chance. Given how little went down I was lucky I had the opportunity to stop him.” Nightwing looked over to him sternly, with his lips curled in an identical frown. “He stole a chemical from STAR Labs. Just one. I hacked into their inventory records and ran it with the records of other nearby STAR Labs. The one in Bludhaven is the only one that carried it.”

 

“So he’s breaking out criminals, and he’s a thief. Or—you know, a thief of both deadly chemicals and crummy villains.” Bart went over to Tim’s side to get a better look at the screen. He shivered, brow pinching together. Same maniacal face, same gruesome smirk. It wasn’t too long ago he’d had those claws over him. It didn’t even occur to him how sadistic he looked. “How did you manage to get out of there without sustaining any injuries?”

 

“Minor. Not without any.” Nightwing shook his head and showed screens of Bludhaven’s STAR Labs. The particular ones he showed revealed a crater in the middle of the floor. “He’s a thief. But not a very good one. He wasn’t looking for a fight, either—I’m not fast enough to chase after him. All he wanted was that chemical. And probably—all he wanted was to break the criminals out of Belle Reve. You just managed to catch up.”

 

“So?”

 

“So, nothing.” Nightwing turned the screen off and turned around to meet both boys once more. His hands curled into the armrests, and eyes fell to the stitches and sling that were still in place over the small speedster’s person. For a moment, his demeanor morphed into surprising concern. “You’re not authorized for this, Bart. The state your uncle came to me in tells me he doesn’t want me to give you information and jump in head first. He doesn’t want you to be—”

 

“Be _what_?” Bart cut him off with a scowl curling unfavorably at his lips.

 

“Impulsive.” The word stayed at Dick’s mouth and he stared down the boy somberly. Before Bart could react—(aka, yell about how _stupid_ that could be)—Dick once again held a hand out and stood to his feet. “Sorry, Bart.” He started a pathway toward the exit. “Discuss it with the Flash. But for now…I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go up against Zoom again.”

 

Bart sped around the man and blocked off his path. Eyebrows pressed together, he looked up to him. “ _Seriously_? What if I’m good? What if I don’t run off? You—you’re hunting down a villain that’s _just like me_ and my grandfather and I’m not allowed to go _after_ him? _Worry_ works both ways, you know.” Standing to the tips of his toes, he tried to meet the old leader of Young Justice eye-to-eye, and his expression faltered. “Zoom tried to _kill_ me without a second thought. I _know_ that. But I don’t want my _grandfather_ to die either.”

 

The fact _anyone_ had died because of his mission made him miserable. Bart ran to Antarctica to keep his grandfather from dying, and still lost a family member.

 

Nightwing sighed, despondent. They stared at each other haughtily, with Bart on his tippy toes and Nightwing staring him down.

 

“Fight for it?” The speedster’s eyes gleamed hopefully. By this point, he knew he was at a loss. Both Tim and Robin, Sr. were staring at him with a ‘ _Really?’_ kind of look. “Thumb-wrestle.”

 

“Bart. My hands are twice your size.”

 

“Yeah, and so’s the rest of you.” Bart juggled between his feet desperately. He _was_ desperate. There was no way he’d let Grandpa Barry do this by himself. “Look, I’m the _time-traveler._ Even if I do die, you’re going to have a new one of me in approximately twenty-six years—”

 

He fell with his head to the ground. Nightwing elbowed him in the chest like the first time and kicked his feet. Bart fell to the ground with a loud ‘ _oof!’_ and looked up to the man that loomed over him. Green eyes twitched, and Nightwing smiled grimly.

 

“I win.” Without batting an eyelash, the first Boy Wonder turned his head to the current, arms crossed over his chest. “I’ve got it set to _alarm_ if it picks up disruptions from a speedster in suspicious vicinities. Flash will be the first one to know if something is wrong. Maybe he’ll have better luck than I do.”

 

“Then what?” Tim walked over, beside the teen.

 

“To shower.” Nightwing pushed the greasy hair out of his eyes and crossed his arms. “Sleep. I spent the past three days in Taipei helping Red Arrow hunt down Cheshire. Not enough sleep. After that I have a meeting with Zatanna. Help yourselves out.”

 

They waited—until there was a solid slam of the door.

 

Bart swallowed, eyes meeting the ceiling as he tried to figure out— _what the hell just happened._ Tim glanced down to him, one eyebrow arched cautiously in the air, and helped the speedster to his feet.

 

“Told you he was scary,” the brunet said.

 

**xxx**

_“I know that you’re lying.”_

“About Santa Clause, the Easter Bunny, or All of the Above?” Dick, dressed in civilian clothing, found himself walking the streets of Boston. He kept a hand on his phone and stared at himself in the glass window of a store. A grimace fell across his lips—it was a good thing that he’d taken a shower.

 

 _“Zatanna is on a joint mission with Bumble Bee, Rocket, and Dr. Fate. She isn’t due back until the end of the week._ ” Tim’s disapproval teemed through the other end of the phone. This time, the dark-haired man couldn’t help but press a hand to his face and bite back a groan. _“How many times did you watch that video?”_

“Too many.” He’d spent the three hours after his confrontation with Wa— _Zoom—_ going through the footage of their fight and comparing it to the moves Kid Flash had done throughout the years before he’d officially retired. After that, he looped the audio—the _only_ words that Wally— _Zoom_ had said to him.

 

_Now how about I show you **my** moves? _

 

Then he looped the other audio, hearing his dead best friend’s voice from their younger days when Kid Flash—the _first_ Kid Flash had still been active. Dick had gone as far as extracting the skin cells on his gloves in hopes to get DNA evidence of his best friend. _If_ that was his best friend. The longer he focused on the possibility that Zoom was Wally, the closer he was to his sanity slipping. He’d promised himself a long time ago to never go through those files—nor treat any of his friends as though they were nothing more than a suspect or a victim. Friends didn’t _track_ friends.

 

He just didn’t know if dead friends still counted.

 

Watching the footage and hearing his voice had a numbing effect on Dick’s mind. It was like pretending he was still _alive._ But—with all the training Dick had received with over a decade in the business, he knew better than that. Even with the video of Wally’s death, after _finally_ being able to slow it down, the mechanics of his mind were at work.

 

 _Not disintegrating due to alien tech_ didn’t mean not dead.

 

Cognitive voice recognition meant nothing, even if Dick was one-hundred percent sure. He’d gone seventy-two hours without sleep, thanks to time spent with Red Arrow hunting down Cheshire, and even he was willing to admit his senses weren’t incredibly keen at the moment. Even if hearing Zoom _talk_ was like a bucket of water over his head.

 

(Not...that sleep even mattered at this point. Dick kept himself busy for a reason, taking up stray cases when someone in the superhero community needed a hand. He focused on doing good in Bludhaven, on making sure Babs, Tim _and_ Bruce were okay when they needed him. Dick could go days without falling asleep, until his body shut down and demanded that he rested. However—three consecutive missions were also putting wear and tear on his body—especially now that one of them could kill him within the blink of an eye.)

 

 _“Why didn’t you tell Bart you think his cousin’s alive?”_ Tim broke through his ministrations before he could dwell longer. He forgot how long ago he started taking every piece of news—good or bad, with a grain of salt. _“He’s been going back and forth about Wally since the death. He deserves to know.”_

“Tim.” Dick stopped at the entrance to a subway and leaned against a wall. “If you found out that there’s a possible chance your dad was alive after re-examining evidence you looked at _constantly_ in the past year, and then found out that it was a lie, how would you feel?”

 

Silence.

 

A pang of guilt shot through Dick’s chest. He knew that his new brother was still coping with the death of his father—given it was three months ago—but they did what they needed. Curling his hand delicately around the phone, Dick closed his eyes beneath his shades. “People just don’t _come back_ from dead, Tim. They call it the _Circle of Life_ for a reason. And you two said it yourself. Bart still feels uncomfortable taking Wally’s place as Kid Flash—even if Wally’d given him his blessing way before that. He needs to adjust and let it sink in.”

 

 _“So what is it then?”_ Tim’s voice changed. _“What conclusion do you have in regards to Wally and Zoom?”_

Dick bit the inside of his mouth. “Can’t tell you yet. Sorry, Timmy. Classified.”

 

More silence. He hadn’t made note of what either teenager had been doing after he left. To his chagrin, one of the qualities Bart Allen _had_ inherited from his hot headed cousin was his stupid sense of duty. And…dying for it. Wally would have never allowed it. Nor would he have forgiven himself.

 

 _“You know,”_ the current Boy Wonder started, and this time Dick had no clue how long he’d slipped away from the conversation, _“I’m usually the last person who gets on your case for doing something idiotic, Dick.”_

“Have I mentioned how much I enjoy that?”

 

 _“I’m…the last person to tell you what the capacity is for pain, Dick.”_ The teen’s voice fluttered with hesitation. _“But…it’s been a year, and no one is—has ever been—on your case for what would happen. Bruce wants you back. And. The team…we’d want you back too.”_

He swallowed hard. Squeezing the phone tightly between his fingers, Dick ducked his head and stared at his feet. “I know that. Thank you.”

 

The plan he had now was a long shot.  Tim and he said their goodbyes over the phone, discussing one more time how _important_ it was for Dick to come home. Alfred had apparently been hinting about it during breakfast that morning. He took the information in stride, knowing at this point Bruce was trying not to force him home, kicking and screaming. Admittedly he hadn’t been in contact with Kaldur in ages unless they discussed a jointed mission. Artemis and he talked, in order to monitor each other—but for the most part, nothing existed above the realm of superheroing between them. Grieving.

 

It wasn’t high school anymore. Far from one of M’gann’s afterschool specials.

 

Dick took the subway until he neared Boston University. A zeta beam point didn’t exist near the college in fear of a cluster of students or drunken idiots would come through and somehow end up at the Watchtower. STAR Labs wasn’t too far a walk when he arrived.

 

After that, he waited. (The Nightwing method of tracking down who he wanted varied. _Waiting_ , unfortunately, was something that was necessary when it came to hunting down a speedster.)

 

Nightwing remained perched on the roof of STAR Labs for a good three hours, after hacking and disabling their security camera. He kept his holocomp pulled up, monitoring trackers in hopes they picked up a speedster.

 

 _A_ speedster didn’t necessarily guarantee _the_ speedster, either.

 

He waited until the sun set in the sky, motivation waning. Streets were filled with college students, adults, and children alike going throughout the streets of the university for a good time. Cars remained at every street, making it impossible for anyone else to pass or trespass. Approximately four people left STAR Labs in that amount of time.

 

Seven hours later, the amount of people on college streets decreased even more. It was a Friday--most people were looking forward to drinking. The facility was closed, and all of the cars meant for STAR Labs had now disappeared, with every worker gone. Dick rubbed the exhaustion out of his eyes.

 

He wasn’t disappointed.

 

Across the street a trio of college boys laughed loudly, enough for anyone in the block radius to hear. They bumped into each other, clung onto arms and pointed at everything that looked appealing. A college girl walked on the other side of the empty street with her nose in a text book. The trio looked over and called out to her. Dick took the chance to slink out of his hiding spot and help.

 

“You’re pretty _pretty_ ,” Idiot A shouted, voice stretching. A shit-eating grin spread from cheek-to-cheek across his face and he clung to Idiot B.

 

“I’ll pass,” she responded warily. The girl took a step back, hands curling around her text book protectively, and gave the trio a hesitant look.

 

Idiots A, B, and C all looked at each other with amusement.

 

“These three bothering you?” Dick showed up from the shadows--and hid his grimace, when the girl squeaked. She looked to him, mortified brown eyes and red ringlets, and backed away into the street. Stepping forward, the man shook his head in reassurance and ducked his head at her. “Trust me--I’m not the one you should be afraid of.”

 

“Four guys on a street cornering one girl.” Her expression twisted and she shook her head gruesomely. “Don’t take me for a dumbass.”

 

Okay. Well--that wasn’t how saving someone usually went. “Look--”

 

“Yeah, Pretty Girl,” said Idiot C loudly, cutting both of them off from their conversation. He grabbed the girl roughly by the arm and she screamed. “Look. He’s obviously the bad guy, right? We’ll save you.”

 

Idiot B sniggered, clawing her other hand. “Yeah! We’ll be your _Supermen._ ”

 

“Get _off_ of me!” she shrieked, eyes side. She screamed. 

“Put her down,” Dick snapped. He started in their direction. Idiot A leered at him--and from out of nowhere, he chucked the beer bottle toward the ex-Boy Wonder.

  
He needn’t the chance to dodge. Not even as much as blinking, and a yellow blur rushed into the scene and caught it mid-air. _Yes._

 

Air slapped Dick in the face as a fifth party suddenly came into the scene. He stumbled back, mildly surprised as tonight’s events suddenly picked up.  The three goons suddenly shouted and away from the girl in question. He managed to catch the Yellow Blur winding a rope around the trio of idiots, then plucked the girl in his arms.

 

Still playing good guy, even if Dick had a strong idea of why he was here.

 

Wally— _Zoom_ even stilled long enough, for Dick to capture a glimpse of the Reverse Flash. They stood parallel from each other, with Dick’s entire body stiffening horribly. His heart hammered in his chest and he stared at the man tightly.

 

The woman, on the other hand, stared at the both of them in awe. Zoom held her like a bride, and she took the moment to inspect the man from head-to-toe—starting with the emblem on his chest. Her fingers carved around the insignia. “Flash,” she deduced. She looked to him curiously. “But…you’re yellow.”

 

Zoom raised his head, barely acknowledging the response, and stepped forward. He extended both arms to give Dick the girl.

 

“Thanks,” he muttered. The ex-acrobat looked down to her carefully and slid her down onto the ground. “You should get going.”

 

She looked at him—probably ready to slip out pepper spray and shoot both of them. Yet instead, the girl nodded tentatively, picked up her fallen book from the ground, and ran. As soon as she was out of sight, Dick turned his head back to Zoom—and wasn’t sure what he was seeing.

 

The speedster looked back at him, his stature slackened and head tilted to the side. Zoom’s lips pursed— _curiously_ —and for a moment, Dick was sure the man was looking at him with stunned fascination. The cowl covered most of the man’s face, but he could make out the slightest hint of freckles on pale crème cheeks.

 

Dick’s stomach lurched—

 

“You…” Zoom’s voice trailed off, monotonous and almost zombie-like. “Should go.”

He felt sick to his stomach. Hands curling into fists, Dick’s gaze narrowed beneath his shades and he failed at hiding a scowl. “So you’re a thief. And a hero.”

 

Still, the speedster across from him looked confused. He was able to see Zoom’s brow contort oddly beneath his cowl. _Completely different_ , from the aggressive person who’d thrown him into a crevasse earlier in the day. Less than twenty-four hours—but enough time for a speedster to get into something else. If Zoom was adherently working for the Light, then what had he been doing in the fifteen-hour gap?

 

“I’ll make it easier for you,” Dick muttered, voice cracking. _No._ He needed to do this. “What’s your M.O.?”

 

Two seconds.

 

_SLAM._

In that time span, Zoom snapped out of his apparent stupor and smashed Dick into the brick wall of STAR Labs. White blinded Dick’s vision, and he forced himself to come-to instantly. Zoom pinned him against the wall, hands on either side of the man’s neck and demeanor flipping like a light switch. From _confusion_ to absolute anger.

 

Zoom’s head twitched to the left mechanically, and a smirk curled across his face. “How’dyoufindme?”

 

Dick choked on a breath. He pivoted on both feet and rotated on his heels, then gritted his teeth. “Chemical…you stole from STAR Labs. Unique to it. _West Coast.”_ He clawed both Zoom’s hands, loosening them, and put his feet between the speedster’s. “Plus…? _Dumb luck._ ”

 

He moved his feet to trip the speedster, and knotted their limbs together. Zoom’s lips curled tightly into an unpleasant scowl, and he slammed the other man harder into the brick wall.

 

“It’s not in there,” Dick wheezed. He whipped out a batarang and dug it into the speedster’s abdomen. “I took it out before you came. _Not a dumbass._ ”

 

To his surprise, Zoom let go of him. A strategically-placed poker face fell across his demeanor. In a blink an eye—the Yellow Blur entered the building, then exited. The air bristled eerily once more, and Dick shivered. When the speedster came back, he turned to the other man—body tight and lips stretched into an unfavorable scowl. Zoom raised a hand.

 

Dick was faster. He grabbed the speedster by the arm, twisted it around his back and slammed Zoom face first into the brick wall. _Hard._ Zoom opened his mouth, making no audible sound—and Nightwing did it again. He grunted, teeth aching as he sneered, and pressed an elbow into the small of the speedster’s back.

 

The other hand, Dick used to pull off the cowl.

 

Bright, unruly red hair matted against his forehead. Solid, emerald green eyes over a crème face, with a narrow jaw and lips stretched into a sneer. Wally West’s face stared straight back at him. _Glared_ at him, with all the hate in the world.

 

“Wally.” Dick’s throat dried. _“What are you doing?_ ”

 

No response. His best friend stared at him hollowly, with a long demeanor and _no_ reaction. Dick did everything to swallow his stun.

 

The inhibitor collar around Wally’s neck beeped, three lights flashing eerily in the night. In that instant, Wally’s expression morphed again—he shoved Dick into the wall and ran.

 

Standing to his feet quickly, Dick sprinted five hundred feet in front of him to grab the other man—and couldn’t. _Knew_ he couldn’t—and was left in the street, empty, aching, and alone.

 

His best friend just beat him up.

 

_Wally._

 

Oh, god.

 

Closing his eyes, Dick rubbed away his incoming headache.

 

He needed to drop this case.

 


	4. Drop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What do you _mean_ you’re dropping the case?”

“What do you _mean_ you’re dropping the case?”

 

Dick winced, staring at the man that loomed over him with hesitation. Barry looked down to him, surprise evident on his face. On the other hand, there wasn’t the slightest bit of anger—just bewilderment. Still the Flash looked at him with eyes wide and hands tossed in the air. He was still holding the phone in his hand—which was a given, since the words had literally come out of the ex-Boy Wonder’s mouth less than ten seconds ago.

 

He stood in the middle of the BatCave, with all of his colleagues and two members of the Flash Family staring him down in disbelief. Fidgeting once again, Dick adjusted the straps on his arm brace—the one keeping his wrist in place from when Zoom had grabbed him. Both Bart and Barry look stunned. Bart—angered, more than anything. Babs seemed to be processing the words in her mind, and Robin mimicked Batman’s indifference. All except for the crook in his eyebrow—the doubtful one that reminded Dick of their phone call.

 

“I mean,” he started quietly, “exactly what it sounds like. I’m not working on this Zoom case anymore. Batman, Batgirl, and Robin all support me on this decision.”

 

Barry’s jaw unhinged and his mouth fell, demeanor softening. “Dick, I saw you just _four days ago_. How do you go from being on board with the decision and then _not_?”

 

“Like this. There’s no better way to explain it.” Rubbing his temples, Dick shook his head vehemently and tried to bite back his own scowl. “ _Look_. This is just…it’s way too personal for me. It hits home. How do you _expect_ me to do this mission without thinking about my _dead best friend_? All of this tech. Everything. I-I can’t handle it.”

 

“You’ve never turned down a mission before.” Batman interrupted, voice slicing through Dick’s resolve like a crisp knife. Holding his breath, the man turned to his old mentor, who held sternness across his demeanor. “Why the change of heart?”

 

“I’ve taken on back-to-back cases since I turned in my resignation to the team,” Dick pointed out. He looked over to both Bart and Tim for emphasis. The former teen in particular looked at him as though his world had been crushed. Swallowing the painful guilt in his throat, Dick crossed his arms and looked back up to the eldest speedster. “I’m due for a break.”

 

“You’re telling us that after over a year of you doing this solo act, you’re got the gall to take a _break_ from it?” Bart sped up to the tall man, anchoring on the tips of his toes. He fisted both hands in his hair and eyed the ex-Boy Wonder psychotically. “I’m sorry, but _what_? That is _so_ not crash—I know you lost your best friend there—”

 

“Bart,” Barry hissed, and he reeled the small brunet back with a hand.

 

“—but why should that have _anything_ to do with this case?” Green eyes flashed pleadingly and Bart’s eyebrows wilted until he looked like a wounded puppy. “Why can’t you help us?”

 

Because this case had _everything_ to do with Wally. Tucking his hands beneath each arm, Dick’s eyes fell down to the young speedster’s livid form. He was taller, than when he first arrived. Adjusting. Bart was even gaining that poor habit of hotheadedness from his _first-cousin, once removed._ “Your arm’s healed.”

 

In that instant, Bart’s stature loosened. He craned his neck to meet eyes with the dark-haired man, with bewilderment in his eyes, and stuffed both hands beneath either armpit. The line of bruises were now all gone over the teen’s head, along with the stitches he only had a few days ago. _Bart’s healing factor was phenomenal._ “Y…Yeah. But. That’s not the point.”

 

“Look.” Dick’s eyes flashed to everyone in the room—to Barry, especially. The blond speedster, as usual, was surprisingly calm despite getting the news. Unlike his grandson, Barry still seemed to be processing the first few words. Looking over to Bruce, all Dick received was an expectant look. He sighed. “I said that I am _dropping_ the case. That doesn’t mean that I wasn’t insensitive to not get someone to _help_ you with it. Batman is here. So are Robin and Batgirl. You don’t need me. The guy who taught me everything I know—will be able to help you.”

 

“And what will you be doing?” Babs arched a quaint eyebrow beneath her cowl.

 

He bit his lip. Curling both of his hands into fists, he met his family’s eyes again and tossed a face to the two speedsters. “Zatanna’s coming back today. We plan on grabbing brunch and catching up. If all goes well…I’m going to do that. Get my life back on track. Barry—you’ve got three capable people right behind me. I _need_ a break. You wanted me to cope, so…this is how I’m coping.”

 

Again, the man studied him carefully. Barry stepped forward and placed both hands on either side of Nightwing’s armor. His demeanor morphed—and without the cowl, it caught Dick off guard even more. “Yeah,” the elder man admitted. Blond eyebrows furrowed together and he tilted his head. “But this isn’t how I imagined you’d be coping.”

 

Ow. Try not to let that hurt.

 

Barry sucked in a loud breath until his chest was puffed out and wide. He rubbed his eyes, finally putting the phone away in his pocket, and looked to the ex-acrobat tiresomely. Guilt, of all things, fluttered in his eyes. “Okay. I’m sorry. Bats and I will work on this. You…You don’t worry about it.”

 

Bart perked up. “But—”

 

“We all grieve in different ways, Bart.” The man looked over to his grandson grimly, then looked back to Dick. His hands curled tightly into the younger man’s shoulders, eyes flickering with concern. “I’m sorry that it hit a nerve. Honest. Just know that I don’t think it’s your fault. Any of it. You know that, right, Dick?”

 

No. “Yeah.”

 

Before he could divert his attention elsewhere, Barry made a point to strengthen his grip onto the younger man. The elder speedster’s eyes flickered carefully, expression twisting once more until he looked solemn. “I mean it.”

 

“I know you do.” Dick took one uncomfortable step back, avoiding the man’s difficult gaze and turned his head to meet his own mentor. “I’ll transfer all of the data to the BatCave for you to coordinate with the Flash. Who knows. In…a few days, in a few weeks…I may feel better.”

 

Bruce nodded jerkily, though with a stern demeanor it was hard to know what the man was thinking. He looked over to the Flash, acknowledging both speedsters’ presences, and scanned them warily. “You were on the phone with Nightwing for approximately thirty seconds, and managed to get here two seconds later.”

 

Both speedsters looked at each other and shrugged. They both scratched their heads thoughtfully.

 

“There aren’t…really a lot of uses for us to go at top speed.” Barry’s eyebrows knit together and he crossed his arms. “Not a lot of villains go at my pace. That’s why I’m worried about this Zoom person—how are we going to know when he shows up?”

 

“Logical,” said the Dark Knight. “I’m not surprised.”

 

“Of course you’re not.” Unfazed, Barry cocked his head and smiled tiresomely. “When can we get started?”

 

“I’m already working on a case. I’ll make Zoom a main priority and get back to you when possible.” Voice monotonous, Batman turned his head to meet Nightwing’s gaze, and silence filled the air. They met eyes, both men standing stiff. “As for now, I’d like to talk to Nightwing alone.”

 

Of course he did. From the corner of Dick’s eye, he saw Robin and Batgirl exchange looks with one another. Bart made a face, clearly unsatisfied with the turn of events, and Barry grimaced distastefully.

 

The latter man walked up to the other league member, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Keep me posted.”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Bart?” Turning his head, Barry’s gaze fell down to his grandson, who waved his hand pettily.

 

“Rain check on dinner.” The young brunet’s face contorted until he looked like a frustrated Pomeranian, and he dashed over to hook arms with the Boy Wonder. Robin nearly fell over from the added weight—but Bart only beamed. “Alfred’s meatloaf as good as his waffles?”

 

Dick hid a smile as Tim made a strained sound. His new little brother attempted to shake the speedster off. No dice. “Yes.”

 

“Cool.” Just as instantly, Bart’s expression flipped. He looked up to Dick, expression curious and lips pursed incomprehensively.

 

Just like Zoom’s only four days ago.

 

“Bart.” Dick walked over, biting the inside of his mouth. He curled a hand over the speedster’s shoulders and looked down to him, eyebrows furrowed together. “You’re a good Kid Flash. You don’t need my approval for it. Honest. Wally would be proud. _I’m_ proud. So…have fun. Live a little.” His eyes flickered between Kid Flash and Robin, and heart leapt to his throat. “Trust me. It’s better that way.”

 

“You need a chill pill.” Uh. Bart’s arm tightened around Tim’s, which looked strangely out of place with one boy in civvies while the other was in uniform. For the umpteenth time since the speedster’s arrival, his demeanor morphed, until it appeared to be at the other end of the spectrum of emotions. With a violent tug, the brunet gripped Tim tightly and jerked his head toward the stairs. “C’mon, I’m hungry.”

 

They zipped out of the cave without a word started. Turning around, Dick was met with the odd looks on both Batman and Flash’s faces, as they stared after their disciples. He bit the inside of his mouth, staring down his old mentor carefully. Both Barry and Babs bid one more farewell, until they disappeared from the Batcave as well.

 

Leaving Dick with Bruce, and anticipating…something. No matter how old he aged or how long he stayed away from the BatCave, the man was his family. The old Boy Wonder bit back a heavy sigh and stood his ground, arms crossed.

 

“How deep are you into this?” Batman asked finally, his voice tepid.

 

The edge of the younger man’s lips twitched softly, and he crossed his arms to combat the aging Dark Knight. “Head-over-heels. I’ve…never been more chalant in my life, Bruce. She’s the one.”

 

Another moment passed, of the usual, painful silence between them. Over the years Dick had gotten used to it—even cracked a joke or two at the man’s expense behind his back to get a hidden smile. Yet all he did now was watch, until Batman reached into his utility belt and pulled out a red card. “You’ll need money for your date then. And then some.”

 

The card had twelve digits, followed by an empty space where one’s name was expected to be. Dick ran a hand smoothly over the content, forgetting to feign pain in his “battered” wrist. “How big of a date are we talking?”

 

“Enough to buy four diamond rings. To get an apartment in any city that you need.” Batman crossed his arms and looked at his ex-student grimly. “You tell me the name, I register it to a pseudo-account with the amount that you need.”

 

The young adult bit his lip, running his hand over the small card again. He knew already, that his ‘friendly visit’ to the manor would not be welcomed happily. Yet here Batman was, adding fuel to the flames for him. “You must really like her.”

 

“Don’t do anything stupid. You get into trouble, I expect you to get out of it.”

 

“You know—you’ve got a lot of nerve giving me that case in the first place.” Eyes flashing beneath his mask, Dick peered up to the man who’d raised him over the years. “I’ve been on my own since last July, Bruce. What kind of wake-up call were you trying to send, assigning me this case with the Flashes?”

 

Batman’s eyes remained cool, undeterred by Dick’s claim. “Report back when possible.” He took long strides until he met his leather chair, and pulled up his current case. Something about Ra’s al Ghul. The steady tempo of keyboard letters being pressed echoed throughout the cave, letting Dick know that the subject—and the whole ordeal would be dropped for now.

 

“You’re not going to question my objective?” he waltzed up quietly and looked at the computer screen in front of them. “What I’m going to be doing in the next few days?” Weeks, maybe. Months.

 

“Should I question your objective, you are the only one who has any control over your decision.” For a moment, the Dark Knight ceased, pulling up other files. He made another throaty noise, leaving the young man only warier. “I stopped holding your hand by the time you turned ten, Dick. I suggest you follow through with your plan without judging your own self too harshly.”

 

Dick’s hand curled tightly over the credit card until he could feel the edges against his flesh. “And?”

 

“Come back in one piece.” Bruce stopped short with his own sentence, this time clasping his hands together, the tips of his fingers digging into the indents between his knuckles. “That’s all I can ask for.”

 

Running the words in his head, Dick reached over to curl a hand into the man’s shoulder and leaned in hesitantly. “I’ll be safe, Bruce.” Or try to, at least.

 

Another moment passed, with only the crisp waterfall to be heard in the background, where they deployed the BatSub. Moving his head curtly, Batman reorganized his holo-screens, pulling up data that was every bit false compared to the information Dick had gathered in the recent week. “I’ll dig deeper into this on my end. Coordinate with me on what you find.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

**xxx**

“I’ve been sent to tame the masses.”

 

“My heart beats for you.” Sarcasm dripped half-heartedly in Dick’s tone as he worked on the computer, pulling up data for a stray case he’d picked up for Troia in the following days since his battle with Zoom. ( _Wally_.) Fingers curling into the keyboard, he heard both intruders as they trekked along the length of the room and met him behind his chair.

 

The warehouse at this time of night was cold, with brisk air that sifted over dusty, unused boxes, reminding Dick that once again that he’d left the door open out of his own enthusiasm. The silent, yet not evasive mental push at his mind made him spin around.

 

Artemis and M’gann, the girls he’d loved like older sisters since the Team had been formed nearly seven years ago. They took opposite ends of him, with looks of concern on their faces that only made the ex-Boy Wonder chew on his lip. “Hi. You ladies let yourselves in?”

 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Artemis glared at him. Both were dressed in civvies, leaving Dick to assume that the pair was having a casual outing—and was directed his way, for an interesting way to end the night. Once Artemis had returned to the team and placed her name back on the roster as Tigress, she’d moved out of the duplex Wally and she shared. That much, he knew. She lived with Zatanna on the West Coast, monitoring things with Green Arrow and helping take care of Lian, when Cheshire was not present.

 

She looked unhappy, which was probably the understatement for the night, with both hands placed at her hips and head tilted accusingly. Dick bit back a grimace, instead crossing his arms to meet her body language and crossed his legs at his ankles. “Who sent you?”

 

“Bart. Barry,” Artemis continued, and her voice changed, teeming with more irritation.

 

“What Artemis is getting at—” M’gann broke through their argument before it could start, placing herself between them as a human shield. She looked to Dick, a small smile etched across her lips that meant, _‘It’s nice to see you, despite the circumstances,_ ’ and placed her hands on her hips in attempt to distill the tension. “—is that Bart and Barry are both worried about you. And we are too.”

 

“Batman has already agreed to take the case on himself.” A frown fell across Dick’s demeanor, gaze narrowing to Artemis’s. “Did they leave that part out?”

 

“N…No, they told us that much.” The Martian shook her head nervously before taking in a deep breath. She turned, the back of her head meeting Dick’s line of sight, and stared at the old archer intently. Dick found himself left out of the mental loop—and waited, until Artemis’s expression morphed into his favor. Finally, M’gann turned around again and met the ex-member of their team. “Flash told us that he planned on asking you to take this case for him.”

 

“Then Bart came over and requested we talk to you. He sounded pretty worried.” Artemis’s gaze narrowed and she sighed softly. “Look—we were hoping you would finally put this resignation thing behind you and come back on the team. At least for the joint-mission.”

 

“I was there for about a month to make sure Robin was okay,” he pointed out. Though the way both girls stared at him made him apparently made his argument invalid. M’gann and Artemis both exchanged looks, trading thoughts that made Nightwing annoyed.

 

“Having you back on a temporary basis is like not having you back at all, Dick.” Miss Martian frowned, holding her hands out to extend her point. “You and we have had the most exposure to Zoom thus far. I…read his mind, and although I don’t mind coordinating with Batman…we work better together.”

 

“You read his mind?” Dick’s interest piqued.

 

The team’s telepath placed a hand against red hair and closed her eyes, brow furrowing together carefully. Massaging her temples, she only grimaced. “Tried to. There were…mental blocks when I tried. I could only scrape the surface of his mind. This agent’s important, if they’re willing to get Psimon to put barriers on his head.”

 

Mind control.

 

So Wally may not be a traitor.

 

“You’re kidding.” Dick’s mind wrapped around the thought in surprise, mind suddenly steering elsewhere. He snapped out of his thoughts when a hand appeared on his shoulder, and realized that his blonde best friend was looking at him intently.

 

Concern fluttered across Artemis’s demeanor. “Dick. Your resignation…we know you did it because of Wally, but we could really use you.”

 

“Did I make it that obvious?”

 

“You’re his best friend. I had half the nerve to kick your ass for resigning, and the other half to pity you.” Leave it to Artemis to bluntly make her point. She puffed out her chest, head held high as one of the commanding members of the team and carrying the authority of Kaldur himself. She sighed gently. “We thought that when you left, you would finally come back.”

 

“You don’t need to blame yourself for Wally’s death.” M’gann floated over to him to place a hand on his shoulder. Both the dark-haired man and blonde bit the inside of their mouths. Their third friend, however, only stood her ground. “Weren’t you the one telling us, in all those years that if we failed missions—learn from those mistakes, then excel at the next one?”

 

“That was Kaldur.”

 

Silence. Neither Artemis nor M’gann looked enthusiastic. Smiling grimly, Dick placed a hand at his utility belt.

 

“I thought this was about me putting the Zoom problem in Batman’s hands.”

 

“It is.” Artemis made ticks with her fingers. “You resigned from the team because of Wally. You won’t take this case, because of _Wally_.”

 

“You couldn’t be further from the truth.”

 

“No. I _know_ you, Dick Grayson. We both do. Bart and Barry called us here so that we can make sure you’re okay. I.” Artemis’s demeanor broke and she flashed another look in M’gann’s direction sadly. She reached out, intertwining fingers with the other adult. Sadness fluttered with sadness. “Look. It’s…been over a year now. And…I’m not over it. I don’t think any of us will ever be. But. There are other ways to cope, than cooping yourself up in a city and hiding out in a warehouse like this. Wally wouldn’t have wanted that.”

 

 _Wally didn’t want a lot of things._ Letting out a rehearsed sigh, Dick opened one of his compartments and pulled out a small velvet box. He rubbed it between his hand, revealing it in the dim light and watched the realization settle in both girls’ eyes. He fell down to one knee, staring wryly at Artemis’s dumbstruck face, and curled is fingers at the small line of his box. “Couldn’t be _further from the truth._ ”

 

Artemis and M’gann stared down to him, mouth parted slightly and eyebrows furrowed together.

 

Laughing quietly on the inside, Nightwing fiddled with the velvet box, not actually opening it, but playing with it enough that both his ex-teammates’ brain seemed to rot. “I’m in _love_ , Artemis.”

 

No response.

 

“With Zee.”

 

Then— _WHACK._

 

“Ow!” Pain registered in the old-Boy Wonder’s head, though it was overcome by a howl of laughter as Dick tossed his head back with a cackle. M’gann let out a belated shout, but the old-Boy Wonder was already on his back, his hands pinching his sides and the supposed ‘engagement ring’ tossed aside near his chair. “ _Hahaha._ You should have seen your _face_!”

 

“I’ll _kill_ you.” Artemis’s hands curled into fists, while from the corner of his eye, Dick could make out the guilty mirth across M’gann’s lip.

 

She perked. “Wait.” The redhead turned to face him, breaking her sheepish character with a gasp. She clasped hands on her face. “You’re planning on proposing to Zatanna?”

 

Artemis, too. She stared at him, still disgruntled, and arched an eyebrow in the air. “You’re proposing. To Zatanna.”

 

“Not… _yet…_ ” Nightwing looked embarrassed, gaze darting everywhere but their faces. The blonde tapped him in the shin with her foot.

 

“Dick. You’re twenty years old. Do I need to slap you again?” Artemis placed hands on her hips and looked at the man as though he’d grown a second head. She extended a hand, helping the old Boy Wonder to his feet.

 

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t. Not _yet._ ” Waving a hand dismissively, Dick shook his head. “Look. You said it yourself, you want me to get my life back in order. Cope. I’m…moving on. So what if I want a relationship, like you and Wally had? Zee and I have a history.”

 

“That’s very…” Artemis’s eyes flickered again. “ _Sweet_ , of you.” She looked to him speculatively, as though staring may uncover a hidden secret, and Dick could only shrug, hoping she thought he was revealing the honest truth. (M’gann, however, flashed a curious look.)

 

“I’m a sweet guy.”

 

“Will you at least think about it?” M’gann looped an arm around the blonde’s sympathetically, tearing Dick’s attention back to the Martian. “We could really use you, Dick. It’s…just a big organization now. Maybe not as a leader, but at least…a role model?”

 

 _A role model._ “I’ll think about it.”

 

Silence. Artemis and M’gann both flashed him another dual look, which he’d gotten used to seeing in the past few years. He felt a sliver of guilt squeeze his chest, for a moment less Nightwing and a little more Dick. Or. He’d met them _as_ the other guy, and cared for them with both hearts. _God_ , if the Allens were willing to send his friends after him, Dick knew he was digging a hole for himself. Especially in front of them, like this.

 

He ran a hand through his hair, exchanging looks with both girls, and sucked in a suffocating breath. “I’ll think about it,” he repeated, with more empathy and even less truth than the first time. “Just because I’m off the case doesn’t mean I can’t help out.” Wally was his best friend.

 

And—if it weren’t obvious, he was willing to do anything for the guy. Dead or alive.

 

The answer seemed to suffice. Artemis pressed her brow together and raised her head, blond hair swishing behind her. “I’m done for the night, then. You, Meg?”

 

The Martian’s green flesh turned into light apricot, morphing as prettily as a butterfly. She smiled carefully at the blonde and tapped a finger to her cheek. “We missed our movie. But I think we can rush to Cali and catch the premiere over there.”

 

“Sounds good.” Artemis took quiet steps toward the door.

 

“Gimme a minute.” Red-orange eyes looked at the young man inquisitively. A half-hearted smile pressed against her lips. “You got your turn harassing Dick, I just want to do the same.”

 

“Be my guest.” The ex-archer’s eyes narrowed to the pair, and she shrugged. “He’s pulled worse over me. I’ll be waiting in the Bioship.”

 

The other two heroes voiced their acknowledgment, waiting until Artemis left, gazes locked together. This time, Dick allowed himself to slacken, if only a little bit. M’gann hugged herself.

 

 _‘Zatanna?’_ she asked.

 

Mimicking her quiet smile, Dick let his head jerk downward just slightly, into a nod.

 

 _‘I…always thought that,’_ even in her mind, M’gann trailed off. She looked back up to him, red eyelashes flitting curiously. _‘That you and Wally—’_

“It’s a little too late for that, don’t you think?” Crossing his arms, the dark-haired man hid the nervousness bubbling in his stomach. He leaned forward—hesitantly, and then placed a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you. For both of you worrying. But I’m fine, okay?”

 

Glossy eyes looked back, not in the least convinced. Though, Dick had the reassurance that she respected him— _all_ of her teammates too much to probe his mind.

 

If she did, he’d probably be dead by now.

 

So instead, M’gann offered him one last look, a pleasant kiss on the cheek that would have gotten an eyebrow-raise from Conner, and nodded back. “Okay.”

 

**xxx**

They met out at a little park near a more suburban area of Happy Harbor later that night, when it was early the next day. It’d been their second date back when they were fourteen, on Zatanna’s suggestion. No matter how well he played with words and dabbled with battles, girls and dating was a playing field that didn’t just go one way. _Unless you were Bruce Wayne and could get any girl you wanted._ Dick had surprised her on their first date by taking her out to a ‘fancy’ restaurant. By their second, she insisted they had a picnic in the park and teased the pigeons.

 

Dick waited in the cool air, dressed for what felt like the first time in weeks in civvies—(which, not even “civvies” as an undercover mission. He wore JC Penney Jeans, the Stanford shirt Wally had gotten him _years_ ago and a pair of TOMs that probably never touched the ground)—and stood by a babbling water fountain that had a statue sculpted out in the shape of Abraham Lincoln. He swallowed hard, suddenly hearing the clattering boots of his old girlfriend as she walked toward him.

 

Zatanna, never putting on an effort to look beautiful, was still dressed in her magician’s gear, with every strand of hair perfectly in place. Her expression wilted when she approached the ex-Boy Wonder, and she sighed wryly, a forlorn smile coming onto her face.

 

Standing to his feet, Dick greeted her nicely and brushed the hair off her shoulder. “You look nice.”

 

She swatted his hand away as though it were a fly and stretched her eyebrows. “Within ten minutes of reaching Earth’s Orbit, I get ten calls from M’gann, all asking if I want to look at wedding dresses, and Artemis is mumbling about having to find a new roommate. Karen and them are trying to coordinate bridesmaid dresses with me.” As an afterthought, half-playful and sounding sweetly annoyed, she added, “What did you do?”

 

Knowing beating around the bush with her of all people wouldn’t work, Dick’s face stretched with the hint of a smile (albeit a nervous one, as he of all people knew better to get on Zatanna’s bad side.). He pulled out the velvet box rested so casually in his hand. “I need a favor.”

 

Unfazed, she looked down to the box, then back to him. “What kind of favor?”

 

“Going under cover. Wondering if you could put a glamour charm on these.” First, he said the words eloquently, remaining in his voice as Nightwing. However, the undeterred look Zatanna gave him, the one with an arched eyebrow and hands placed on either hip, made him wilt. “Um. Please?”

 

She placed the box between her gloved fingers, inspecting it carefully, and opened it to make out the bits of jewelry. Even Dick felt his ears turn pink from the way her eyebrow reached the sky. Looking back up, Zee’s face greeted him goadingly. “And?”

 

Trust her to know that there was an ‘ _and’_ attached to that. Being his first girlfriend all those years ago, Dick supposed there weren’t very many people that knew him just as well. Or—just the way he felt at the moment somehow made it to his face. “I…kind of need you to be my temporary girlfriend for a while. Like, more than a few days than a while.”

 

 _“Girlfriend_?”

 

“Only in name!” Though even then, Dick was beginning to see that _hole_ he dug for himself as a new home. He placed hands on either side of her, seeing Zatanna’s demeanor stretch at the ridiculous of the notion. She…was taking it a lot better than he could have asked. He hurriedly explained the plan to her—or at least, the parts that involved her. Needing to lay low for a mission. Needing a cover. Calling her pretty—because the older he got, the less big-eared smiles worked for him.

 

Once he explained her vital parts, Zatanna pressed a hand to her eyes, clucking his name gently between her teeth. “Oh, Dick…Dick, Dick, Dick, Dick…”

 

“Are you saying my name or insulting me?” he asked, voice full of hopeful mirth. At this point he wasn’t sure it was working to his advantage. Finally, those sweet blue eyes looked up to him, causing the man to gulp. “How much is it going to cost me?”

 

Zee waved a hand over the velvet box, mumbling the spell beneath her breath before extending a hand to place it in the other adult’s grasp. Her expression shriveled just slightly, and she pressed fingers to her forehead. “You know I’m not a good liar.”

 

“That’s why it was so easy to see that you wanted to break up,” Dick pointed out. He tucked the box in his pocket and reached out to curl his fingers into the magician’s. Squeezing it tightly in his hand, his brow furrowed together and he leaned his head to the side. “I know. The last time we went with my plans, we got someone killed—”

 

Zatanna pulled her hand away, instantly appalled. “That’s _not_ what I’m thinking.”

 

—but he could maybe, _actually_ bring that person back. A guilty lump swelled in Dick’s throat, so big that it felt like he’d swallowed a stone. Even if the words were at the tip of his tongue, his mind stopped him from revealing anything.

 

“Dick—you leaded the team through a lot, coordinating plans with Artemis, Kaldur, _and_ Wally. You were a good leader, and you’re one of the best in the business.” Zatanna jabbed a finger at his chest.

 

“That’s the third time I’ve heard it today, Zee.”

 

“Yeah.” She brushed a hand to the side of his face, curling a finger at his cheek and pushing the hair out of his face. She came close, until the tips of her feet touched his own, and a sad smile adorned her lips. “That must mean it means something. No matter how smart you are, you’re still a clueless Boy Wonder.”

 

Dick closed his eyes, sighing, and leaned into her warmth.

 

She promptly pulled away. “This is strictly business.”

 

Right. Putting a bit of distance between them, Dick jerked his head in a quiet nod. His fingers tangled with the box in his pocket and he rubbed his hair—sheepish, like he was fourteen again and fumbling with a girl. (Then he winced—because he’d never felt this uncertain at fourteen. There were too many perks of being ignorant—or not caring—of expectations when they were younger.) “Strictly business. I’ll call you?”

 

“Gotta keep up appearances.” Zee looked down to her own boots, clearly exasperated and tired for the night. He couldn’t tell if there was a bit of bitterness or amusement in her tone. Not being able to read her felt like getting frustrated and triple-guessing himself over an action he’d done billions of times in the past.

 

You’re slipping, Grayson. Dick _knew_ the worry didn’t show up on his face.

 

“You could actually have it, you know.” She snapped him out of his thoughts, thankfully, before he could get a headache from dwelling. Zatanna’s eyes melt him, hands clasped on her hips and voice quiet. “Settle down. Rest, at least a little bit.” Then, quickly, she added—“N…not with me though. I just mean…in general. I worry about you.”

 

The nervousness in her tone made a hint of a smile curl across Dick’s face. He kissed her sweetly—on the cheek. “I worry about you too.”

 

He intended for the action to make her smile. Instead, Zatanna kept her long demeanor, with the worry still blooming in her eyes, and the clinch around herself tightened.

 

Again—it was the third time tonight that he was on the receiving end on a pitying look like that. Instead of making an excuse or screwing around by pulling a prank. Before Dick knew it, he was hiding his face behind a hand and taking in a sharp breath. He was tired. “I can’t, Zee.”

 

Not anything. He _screwed up_ , which no one seemed to understand. It wasn’t just a light mistake where it could be mulled over and fixed. For nearly a year, he’d commandeered the team and worked their operations. Confrontations with Kaldur when he’d operated with Black Manta were the disgusting times where he could breathe, because the old leader was holding his hand as they worked through it all. Dick had gone from getting his feet wet, testing himself out as a leader, to plunging into water and drowning in his own mistakes.

 

And for himself—if he took a step aside to observe the man that stared at him every morning in the mirror, Dick would wonder why he would ever follow that man into battle.

 

It was better for him to stay alone, in his thoughts. Less people to question his objectivity, and even less for him to compromise. He loved the feeling of adrenaline too much, pumping through his veins to deafen the guilt he felt immediately afterward, and the achey laugh he was able to share with his shadow, as he swung by himself with a grappling hook—and the longer he did that, the longer he wanted to roll on his side and hide away.

 

Summing that up into a few simple words though, for Zatanna to hear would have been a handful. Dick was slowly forgetting how sweet a friend compartmentalizing was. Rubbing the incoming migraine away, the dark-haired man crossed his arms solemnly.

 

“I’ve heard all the words since I’ve grown up,” he whispered quietly, voice sounding strange. “’They would want to be happy.’ And—he and I…Wally. We didn’t get off on the best terms. Which means nothing—I’m sure. But.”

 

He stopped, waiting for a painful heartbeat to pass. Leaning over, Dick kissed her on the cheek once more, forgetting he’d done that already. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and ducked his head.

 

“Sorry, Zee,” Dick said finally, and he fell back. “But I can’t do that. Not without knowing that I’m lying around while Wally’s off doing something else.” He’d almost let the truth roll off his tongue. Instead, the ex-Boy Wonder raised his head compliantly again and started a path down the sidewalk. “I’ll call you if I need anything else, alright?”

 

Her eyes flickered sadly, and he forced himself to keep eye contact with her. “Alright. Stay chalant.”

 

He froze. Looking at her with a bit of surprise, Dick’s eyebrow raised carefully in the air, and he nodded curtly. “You too.”

 

With that, Dick left to finish the rest of his errands.

 

**xxx**

Three days later, he finally set his plan in motion. The sweltering August heat was preparing for September, with humidity causing beads of sweat to permeate down his bare neck. He clasped the armor on, boot-by-boot, glove-by-glove, and ran his hand over his thigh where his eskrima sticks no longer curled into the palm of his hand. He made it a mantra in his head, reminding himself that he’d replaced it with a thigh belt instead. Remember it, he chastised to himself, or be killed.

 

Earlier he’d looked at himself in a mirror; to the lips that would curl into an ugly crooked smile that usually got him where he needed—or into terrible trouble. Right now, he couldn’t do anything to make himself smile. The discomfort knotted in his stomach, like honey bees that needed to sting him every other second.

 

Dick clipped the glamour charms on and briskly left. Getting into the lab was easy enough, shutting down security cameras and crawling upon ceiling fixtures. The A/C hummed softly, and he shivered. Like the first time, he waited.

 

Not too long, either. A yellow blur caught his attention, skirting the outside to do who-knows-what, followed by the forms of other people. _Loud_ people.

 

With a grimace, Dick readjusted the mask over his face once again.

 

Showtime. 


	5. Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hahaha. The name is Red X.” X turned his head, arms crossed and the chemical dangling haphazardly at his hand. “Some team you’ve got.”

Zoom’s head hurt.

 

It was a recurring thing in the past week since his second deployment mission in order to tather materials from the Star Labs in Bludhaven. He experienced flashes of short, sudden tugs at his conscious that nagged him to do more than collect what Deathstroke and Luthor needed. Like when he’d saved the people from the bus and SUV accident, or the poor girl at Boston that was being assaulted by drunk hoodlums. (There had also been the third-party observer—the boy with the black hair that made Zoom scowl in disgust.)

 

Psimon—to his understanding—was still working out diplomatic circumstances in Bialya with Queen Bee. Unfortunately that meant that Zoom could not be sedated until the small man’s return in the following weeks. It was to Luthor’s chagrin, and therefore his own. They demanded a covert operative to find subjects and experimental, unstable chemicals in order to further Cadmus’s research.

 

Nothing in their prime orders discussed ignoring sub-urban and metropolitan trouble. Luthor yelled at him until the vein on his bald head looked like a labyrinth. Luthor acting upon his temper, no matter how diplomatic he went about it made Zoom _re_ act. Tempers went both ways, even if the young man was forbidden to dwell. Dwelling made his head hurt, which was why he was eager for Psimon’s next visit.

 

Deathstroke advised him to keep his mouth shut, no matter how amusing it was to watch the man’s head glow angrily like a red light bulb. He’d been under house arrest for the past few days after failing to get the Xenothium from the STAR Labs near Boston University, and the heist in Dakota City was supposed to be his chance to redeem himself.

 

He had a lot to be thankful for because of Deathstroke, Luthor, and his other superiors. But according to them he lacked the brain capacity to form an apology. The only way for Zoom to keep his place at their side was to do better.

 

 _However_ —he’d snorted at a last protest to Deathstroke— _bringing two gargantuans, a petty kid made out of ice who didn’t know how to shut up, and a rookie seemed unprofessional_. Deathstroke gave him a stoic look, with silence behind his metal mask that loudly goaded him into completing the mission.

 

Maybe if he got something right, his head would finally stop hurting.

 

Dakota City was a metropolitan area akin to Gotham City or Metropolis. The population was much smaller, yet the amount of recognizable villains and allies that arose from the area turned heads. Alva Industries was on a hilltop located on the Dakota Hills Boulevard.

 

It was bigger than STAR Labs, but not in name. The man who owned the facility was said to have the only other supply of Xenothium in the world. They reached the lab in an irritatingly annoying time. Deathstroke had increased the shock in his collar as a homing signal for Zoom and the rest of them to fall back when needed.

 

He’d also given Zoom a universal remote to shock Tommy Terror, Shimmer, Icicle Jr. and Jinx—the rookie—should they turn on him. They’d been broken out of Belle Reve Penitentiary for a reason. Yet even with that fact clinging to their existence, Icicle Jr. did not appear to understand their orders.

 

They stood on an open field of grass in the dark starry night, adjacent to the building that was empty of workers. In one ear, Deathstroke repeated his orders firmly. In the other, Icicle Jr. continued to babble foolishly.

 

Turning around, Zoom held the remote, no bigger than the length of his finger and slightly thicker than a CD-ROM, causing his quartet to wince.

 

Icicle Jr. broke away from his one-sided conversation with Shimmer, indicating he knew full well he was the culprit. He stood tall on his feet with the inhibitor collar gleaming eerily in the darkness . A scowl formed across his lips. “Got a problem?”

 

No response, not unless necessary. _Reactionary_ did not file under the same category as necessary. It’d been another thing Luthor, Deathstroke, and Savage hissed about under his house arrest, making his head hurt even more. When that happened, Zoom lost the ability to talk. Grimness casting across the speedster’s face, he pushed the pain-inducing thought aside and brushed his fingers smoothly on the button.

 

All four of them tensed. Junior’s scowl widened across his face. Although he raised his arms in surrender, he took a step forward and matched heights with the man. “All you’ve done in our time together is raise that damn remote threateningly in your hands. You haven’t spoken, haven’t given us any look. What makes you fucking _qualified_ to lead us?”

 

Bigger frown. Zoom pointed the remote and pressed the button.

 

 _“AHHH!”_ Fire ignited around Junior’s neck, and the chilly man shrieked. Sharp glass fingers clawed at the collar, Junior collapsing to the ground as combs of fire pulsed like a drum beat. He rolled across the ground, his fear shouting agonizingly into the world, and curled into a fetal position before throwing a fist into the air. “Okay!” he gasped. “ _O-Okay!_ Y-You lead, you _lead!”_

Good. A soft _beep_ tingled in the air, and instantly the fire disappeared. Parts of Junior’s face had perspired off, with one eye melting down the side of the face. He scrambled to his feet, teeth clattering, and shot ice at his face, until a thick layer of frozen glass consumed his entire face. The man trembled, various parts of him dripping and thinning.

 

Turning his head again, Zoom met gazes with Terror, Shimmer, and Jinx, who all grimaced fearfully beneath his gaze.

 

Terror grunted, large hands curling into gruesome fists, and he nodded uprightly. “You ain’t got information on the vulnerabilities for all of us.”

 

Zoom flicked the remote in his hands. Despite the claim, no one else looked willing to find out. That was better.

 

They had orders to complete.

 

They were simple enough. The Rookie, Jinx, was to circle the building. Her special talent was ‘ _unluckiness,’_ according to data files. She was to cause accidents around the building, forcing each officer to inspect the damage. She was small, only sixteen years of age, but powerful—creating a large sink hole to drown the officers. A flick of her wrist and their communicators exploded into static.

 

Shimmer transmutated a large hole in the side of the wall into sand, while Icicle Jr. reflected the red motion detectors away.

 

The mission was a simple one, but their superiors also wanted an assessment of each and every one of their powers. Zoom remained planted at the edge of the room as a third party observer, while Tommy Terror broke into titanium-built cabinets.

 

Everything they needed should have been here. All that was left—the one chemical that was one of the hardest elements to find, was Xenothium.

 

He left that job to himself. Zoom surfed the room, careful to dodge motion sensors that would set off the alarm. The laboratory consisted of several work tables, with cabinets that were filled with beakers and miscellaneous items, similar to the ones back at Cadmus. Xenothium would be locked away, so not a soul could steal it. Zoom would have bet he needed to vibrate the lock off.

 

 _One jolt of electricity through his collar._ The warning flare.

 

Zoom observed the damage that put them where they were. Guards were dropped in a large hole, too steep for them to dig. A wall had been torn down, thanks to Shimmer, and shards of ice were jutted in far directions of the room. Cabinets were dented, evidence given that they were present.

 

These morons were useless.

 

He would have left them where they were, had not Savage reminded him they were needed for the prototypes.

 

 _THUD._ “You looking for something?”

 

“What the _fuck_?” was the reply made from Icicle Jr.

 

Whirling around, they caught sight of the intruder. The man was perched happily on the center lab table with a large container of their missing chemical in his hands. He was dressed head-to-toe in black Kevlar, with an imprint of a white skull on his face. His boots thickened into sharp shin guards, and sharp spikes jutting of his forearms. Bits of white ran down his abdomen. Knee pads, elbow pads, utility belts, indents—and most importantly, Xs were highlighted in a bloody red. A red X rested on his forehead, slashing down one eye like a scar, on his shoulder pads, and on his torso.

 

“Sugar, spice, and everything nice.” A soft chuckle echoed through the dismal room, and the man flicked the Chemical X in his hands. “Tsk, tsk, _tsk._ You Powderpuffs are _bad_ at this.”

 

“That li’l fucker’s got the Xenothium!” Terror growled.

 

“You’d be surprised how easy it was to find it.” The thief tossed the container half-heartedly between his hands complacently and stood to his feet. He turned his head, meeting gazes with Zoom easily.

 

“And who are you supposed to be?” Icicle Jr. demanded. He jabbed a finger angrily at the man. “That container’s _ours_ , buddy! You give it back!”

 

“Pound him.” Zoom’s voice broke through all their ears, causing his subordinates to turn their heads his way. He raised his head, defiant, and crossed his arms tightly. They had a mission.

 

“Finally! I’ve been getting’ mighty _impatient_ with this whole ordeal!” And with a feral growl, Terror charged forward and slammed his fists over the table where the man was perched. It shattered beneath his hands while the man in question leaped over him, jumping above the behemoth’s back and landing at another desk. “Get _back_ here you piece of shit!”

 

“ _Hahaha._ The name is _Red X_.” X turned his head, arms crossed and the chemical dangling haphazardly at his hand. “Some team you’ve got.”

 

A glare twisted across Zoom’s face. He jerked his head expectantly toward the other members of his supposed team, reminding them to fend the man off. Terror growled, knocking over another lab table. Red X flipped backward with an acrobat’s grace, and suddenly he conjured a bladed X at the palm of his hand.

 

“Now you see me—” he tapped the center of his red utility belt with the back of his other hand. “—now you don’t.”

 

The X shot through the darkness like a shuriken, embedding in Terror’s palm as he reached out to grab the nuisance. He shouted in pain, clutching his wrist, and the arm fell next to him as a dead weight, shaking the room like a miniature quake and causing Shimmer to the ground.

 

“HEY!” she shouted vehemently and pounded a fist into the ground. “Watch where you throw that fist, you _dumbass_!”

 

“I can’t feel it!” Tommy twisted sharply, but fell to his knees. He hissed in anger, tossing a dirty look in Red X’s direction, “what in tarnation did you _do_ to me, you _scumbag?!_ ”

 

“Numbing shot.” Red X reappeared, waving a hand dismissively, and crossed his arms. “Same thing they give to you at the dentist’s office. Judging by that yellow in your teeth though—I bet you don’t get a lot of work done.”

 

Tommy’s face turned red with anger. He darted toward the newcomer, regardless, and held his other fist. “I can still _crush_ you with my other fist!” He ripped a lab table from the ground one-handedly, causing the tile floor around them to shatter and crumble, and threw it at the man.

 

Red X leaped over it, jumping across the length of the trashed lab table, and mounted over Terror’s head, the back of his heels digging into the muscle man’s eyes.

 

“GET! OFF! OF! ME!”

 

“Nope.”

 

Being the moron he was, Terror spun axels like a child’s top, bumping into lab tables and equipment as he did so.

 

Icicle Jr. sprayed each toppling desk with ice and threw shards at the man. “He’s going to level the entire building! Doesn’t he, you know, _know_ how many different _toxic chemicals_ are in here?!” he tossed a panicked look in Zoom’s direction. “What are you going to do about it?!”

 

Looking back, Zoom’s eyes narrowed beneath his mask. Shimmer had joined the fight, attempting to rip Red X from Terror’s face, but getting knocked over by Terror’s might in the process. The rookie stood by, a look of panic crossing her features as she looked back to the speedster as well. His lips curled downward firmly, brow contorting. “I’m not the one with cryokinesis.”

 

Junior’s demeanor contorted with pathetic disbelief. “But you can—”

 

“I can supervise.” Turning his head, he was met with a wince from Jinx’s direction. Zoom tilted his head. “Well?”

 

Terror crashed into a wall, causing asphalt and debris to collapse on top of him. Another X-riken appeared in Red X’s hands, and he jabbed it sharply into the side of Terror’s neck, right above the collar. Terror shouted in pain, and suddenly the blonde’s head lulled to the side, knocked out.

 

 _“Dude!_ ” Junior hissed.

 

But that was the end of their conversation. Another shock registered in Zoom’s collar, reminding him of their time limit. X stood to his feet and assumed a battle stance in front of the scowling Shimmer. She shouted at him, darting through the length of the room, and threw a punch in his direction. Red X caught her by the wrist with a heavy mechanic chuckle.

 

“Mom always said I shouldn’t hit a girl,” he hummed mirthfully into the air.

 

Shimmer’s gaze narrowed to the boy. She clasped her taken hand over his wrist, and his glove glowed between her fingers, until bits of Kevlar turned into cement.

 

“Oh—wow, you’re not like other girls, are you?” X ripped away his hand, twisting his feet beneath her legs. He bobbed forward and pecked her on the cheek. “I like that.”

 

“What the—”

 

“I’ve got you, Shim!” Junior aimed his hands to the floor beneath Red X’s feet.

 

“Whoops.” Looking over, Red X’s eyes shot to the iceman. White coldness shot out of Junior’s hands, and immediately, Red X leaped into the air and over Shimmer’s shoulders. Grip still tight over the woman’s hand, he landed to his feet and slammed her into the ground. She shouted in frustrating pain. “That’s okay.” He slipped a hand into his thigh belt. “I’ve got another glove.”

 

Icicle Junior shot shards of ice in Red X’s direction. The darker man bobbed and weaved like a performer at a circus, while pink energy crackled at Jinx’s fingers. Her eyes sparked pink, and just like the crater outside with the officers, she split the ground beneath Red X’s feet. He wriggled, swooping back as a wave of ice shards also shot in his direction.

 

“ _Woop_.” Red X flipped back, feet landing on a forgotten lab table and leaped on a light fixture. Bulbs flickered an electric pink before exploding on sight, and Icicle Jr. froze the rest over. X landed to the ground, akin to a feline with the jar of Xenothium tucked beneath his arm. Jinx jumped, as he stood parallel to her.

 

“You’re a sweet charmer, aren’t you?” 

 

Jinx’s body trembled. She tensed before him, holding both arms threateningly in front of him.

 

“Jinx.” This time, Zoom addressed her instinctively. She turned her head, uneasiness registering across her face, and Icicle Jr. struck.

 

“Watch it rookie! Jeesh, who thought it was a good idea to put the _new girl_ on the field?!” He shot a beam of ice in the couple’s direction. Immediately, Red X responded, twirling Jinx around to take the hit instead, until she was covered from head-to-toe in a thick sheet of ice. Junior’s eyes widened, and the girl shrieked in protest.

 

Red X was still standing. Jinx was now detained, Shimmer was unconscious after one violent blow to the floor, and Terror was paralyzed from the shoulder down. All that remained was Mahkent, and Zoom himself.  The irritating theif dusted off his suit in good jest and stood tall, meeting eyes with Junior.

 

The iceman rubbed his hands together, cold eyebrows pursing together nervously while Red X’s body slackened in stature. “You think you’re so _tough_ —well take _this!_ ”

 

Junior shot ice at the ground, covering the tile floor until everything was crystallized, before Red X leapt in the air.  Red X bellowed once more, twisting in the air majestically. He skidded across the ice and jutted the back of his heel into the surface. “I think we’ve danced this one too many times, Popsicle.”

 

“Who you callin’ ‘popcicle’?!” Junior turned blue in the face with rage.

 

Coming to a steady halt, Red X raced forward and threw x-pellets into the air. Smoke blanketed the room as they exploded, with Icicle’s crinkly cough echoing off the walls.

 

“Sorry.” Red X appeared from the line of fire, delivering a high kick to the jaw and knocking the man backward. He punched Junior in the face, and the blast resounded like shattering glass, then swiped the man off his feet. “You’re not my type.”

 

All with the package still tucked tightly beneath his arm. With everyone immobilized, all it left was Zoom at the other end of the broken lab, with a sneer on his face.

 

“What’s wrong, speed?” A metal laugh coming from Red X’s lips, he placed a hand to his side and another to his cheek and tilted his head enthusiastically. “You didn’t enjoy the show? I’m hurt.”

 

Jinx flashed an apologetic look from her spot, pink eyebrows pinching together fearfully. Zoom shook his head with a slight jerk, he hoped the rookie understood she shouldn’t blame herself. Instead, he uncrossed his arms, walking the length of the room until he stood parallel to X.

 

They weren’t leaving. Not until they got that package back.

 

Through the thick cloth of Red X’s mask, Zoom was sure he could make out a smirk. The man tossed the jar carelessly into the air and caught it gracefully. He gestured to the damage done the room—the twin holes on both walls, the lab tables ripped off the ground and knocked over, melting ice shards that took out technology, and the tiled floor that was now bare. “Quite the show your performers put on here.”

 

“I want that Xenothium.”

 

“Straight to the point.” Red X flicked his wrist, curling his fingers invitingly, and raised his head. “I like that in a man, babe.”

 

Zoom lunged forward, sprinting quickly to slam the man into an undamaged wall. Red X’s head bobbed back from the sudden impact, with a grunt of surprise leaving his lips. The jar of Xenothium dug between their abdomens, and the speedster took it in his grasp.

 

Red X buried his heels into the small of Zoom’s back and forced them together until they were chest-to-chest. Throwing his arms around the speedster’s shoulders, a frivolous chuckle fell from the man’s lips. “You’re pretty leggy, _aren’t ya_ , speed?”

 

Wrestling out of the man’s grasp, Zoom planted his free hand firmly to the left of Red X’s head and pushed off. The thief shriveled to the floor, hitting his ass against the broken tiles and groaned. He somersaulted forward. A black-gloved hand reached out for the speedster, and he ducked backward. Red X swiped a foot, and Zoom jumped.

 

Another X-riken appeared from the insignia at the palm of his hand. As Zoom moved to strike again, Red X embedded the X-riken into the speedster’s leg—and suddenly, Zoom dropped to one knee, like Tommy Terror did with his fists.

 

“Numbing shot!~” Red X sang with amusement in his voice, feet flat on the ground.

 

A second passed. Then another, while Red X gracefully swiped the container of Xenothium for himself. Then, Zoom slammed into the thief violently, shoulder jutting into the other man’s collar bone.

 

“Hyper-accelerated metabolism.” speedster torpedoed toward Red X, ramming his fist into the thief’s gut twelve dozen times. Red X fell backward, feet twisting crookedly beneath him, and Zoom took the chance to lift the man off the ground. He tossed the container of xenothium onto a forgotten table and held his arm up, until X’s feet were dangling off the ground. “My body moves as fast as I do.”

 

The thief’s head lulled to the side, body going limp in Zoom’s hands like silly putty. Around him, the rest of his subordinates came to, stirring from their various positions. Junior broke the melting ice off Jinx, eyebrows contorted together guiltily.

 

“Sorry, Rookie, I—”

 

“You,” she spat angrily, eyes glowing, “don’t _ever_ try to _‘save’_ me again. Got it?”

 

Zoom raised a hand, letting it vibrate until it disappeared in real time. He had every intention to force it through the thief’s chest and kill h—

 

_“Don’t.”_

He stopped. For the first time that night, Luthor’s voice broke through the earpiece in one of Zoom’s wing tips, and he waited patiently.

 

_“Retrieve the Xenothium and return our intruder, ‘Red X’ to headquarters.”_

 

At the command, Zoom hesitated. His hand reappeared on his wrist, frown appearing across his face in regards to the unconscious man, and he let Red X down thoughtfully.

 

Luthor’s voice growled in his ears. _“ **Now**. Don’t waste your time making your head **hurt** , Zoom. We all know how that will end up.” _

Ugh. Instinctively, Zoom’s hand brushed against his temple. He turned his head, getting a look at all four of his subordinates who begrudgingly collected themselves, then turned aside. Hesitantly, his voice fluttered out, “How long until Psimon returns?”

 

Deathstroke’s voice cut Luthor off, before the other man could snap again. _“Don’t fret, Zoom. You did good today. Lex and I both approve._ ”

 

On cue, the three blue lights on his inhibitor collar blinked, with a last shock that indicated it was time for them to return. Zoom’s lips pursed together, tentative as he scrutinized Red X’s limp body. X had been the reason part of Alva Industries was trashed, alongside the rest of his so-called “team-mates.” It would be a hard job, coming back and cleaning up the vicinity as he would have done in the past.

 

 _“Don’t worry_ ,” Deathstroke echoed again, his voice monotonous in Zoom’s ears. _“We have it all under control.”_

“Okay.”

 

Zoom pulled out the boom tube.

 

**xxx**

Their base was located underground beneath a small town in the Midwest, consisting of a gas station and a mini-market. The closest school was forty-five minutes out by car, and two houses adjacent to each other would take twenty minutes of travelling. Ways to get there involved going thoroughly through the sewers—or, the preferred way of travel would be by boom-tube. The hideout was an undetected Cadmus facility, split up in five wings that doubled as Zoom’s quarters along with the rest of his subordinates.

 

The trip back was made in grim silence, with Junior griping to the passed out Red X, who was hauled over Terror’s shoulder. They appeared in the main-ops room: a solemn room consisting of several security cameras, along with a ceiling-to-floor computer screen meant to project Zoom’s directors when he was deployed on missions. A dark metallic circle rested on the center of the room, meant to act as a sparring center aside from Cadmus’s gym in the fourth wing.

 

Per usual, Deathstroke sat at the chair with his legs swung over the machine. Luthor, _per usual_ , was projected on the main computer, eyebrows crookedly turned and angry. His lips twitched into a feral scowl, causing everyone but Zoom to twitch.

 

The man was the same every time Zoom saw him. Luthor needed nothing more than for him to obey orders. When something simple as that went wrong— _such as tonight_ —he took on the form of unsheathed anger. Luthor seethed loudly, his demeanor unpleasant, and clasped his hands together. _“It seems you all had a **difficult night.”**_

 

Zoom’s lips fidgeted. He stepped forward on a long platform, extended a hand, and placed the Xenothium in Deathstroke’s hands.

 

 _“Five incredibly extraordinary combatants, and they could not handle one man without superpowers?”_ Luthor sneered, gaze falling to the lone speedster. _“I expected better from you, Zoom. To leave such a mess behind…”_

 

“Yes, sir.” Zoom’s voice tumbled, monotonous and droning. He raised his head, as defiant as in the laboratory, and crossed his arms. “If I may point out however, you asked us to retrieve the Xenothium. Your other orders were rather vague.”

 

On cue, Luthor’s demeanor stretched once more, teeth gritting. Deathstroke raised a hand, halting the man before he could speak. They shared looks, a silent conversation passing through the air that caused the more political man to calm down. He let out a sharp breath and massaged his temples. “ _I did not ask for your interjection. However— **very well.** Let us see our little intruder.” _

 

Turning around, all three men faced Red X as he was thrown onto the ground roughly. A grunt left his lips, followed by a long winded groan, and the boy crawled to his feet. They’d tied his hands back at the lab at Junior’s suggestion. _Finally_ , something intelligent that left Icicle Jr.’s mouth.

 

Mammoth and Tuppence Terror had been allowed to enter the room, with identical collars strapped to their necks. They waltzed toward their respective siblings, smirks twisted disgustingly over their lips.

 

“What’samatter, Tommy?” Tuppence placed a hand on her brother’s bicep. “You look like someone’d gone and _riled_ you up.”

 

“Blame this piece of shit over ‘ere, Tuppence.” Tommy growled, firmly kicking Red X in the back, then jerked his head in both Shimmer and Junior’s directions. “Then these guys got nothin’ on you. Can’t fight to save their lives.”

 

Shimmer sneered. “Says the dumbass that got knocked out _first!_ ”

 

“What’d you call mah brother?” Tuppence turned her head, clawing a fist into the other girl’s shirt. She growled, eyebrows pinched together—then faltered. Instead, she turned her head toward Jinx. “Fuck that—” Tuppence reached out to grab Jinx by the arm, and the younger girl bit back a squirm. “—how’d the _rookie_ do? You ask me, I should’a been there _instead—ahhh_!” The collar around her neck suddenly shrunk, collapsing against her flesh. Tuppence fell to the ground, choking on her own saliva.

 

Tommy shouted. “ _Tuppence!_ ”

 

The collar ceased. Deathstroke shook his head solemnly and waved the small remote in his hands; one that was identical to the one gifted to Zoom. “You know better than to pick a fight, Tuppence. We shouldn’t waste all of that energy, now should we?”

 

Tuppence breathed in loudly, sucking in air. She bared her teeth at the three men at the end of the platform, and slapped her brother’s hand away as he offered it. _“Damn you._ ”

 

 _“Be a good girl now, Tuppence.”_ Luthor’s gaze narrowed warily, eyebrows still pinched together and jaw tight. “ _You wouldn’t want to do something you regretted, now would you?”_

 

“Why, you—!” The second function of the inhibitor collar settled in, disabling Tuppence’s powers before she could leap across the room and punch out the main computer. She fell flat on her face with a disgusting thud and screamed in frustration. _“Damn you to HELL!”_

 

The cackle that followed caused everyone to cock their heads, looking at the thief that stood tall in the center of the room.

 

The eerie glow from the computer screen bounced off the man dressed in black, making Red X look darker in their room. He chortled again, almost inaudible, yet loud enough to break through their barrier. “That’s a smart idea you have right there, Luthor. Teaming up seven super-powered human beings who have their heads up their asses.”

 

Even Zoom had to snort. The reaction brought the attention of both his superiors, who looked less amused.

 

 _“To what do we owe this fine visit_?” Luthor’s jaw tightened visibly on screen.

 

“If I do recall—and I _do_ recall—” Red X’s shoulders reached his ears. He twisted his footing, revealing the metal clamps over his hands whimsically and met eyes with the man. “—I was a kidnappee.” His attention fell to Deathstroke, and the amusement seemed to increase over his face. “A pleasure to meet the great Slade Wilson, by the way. You’re my idol, you know.”

Slade Wilson. Zoom assumed that _Deathstroke_ was the man’s actual name. Turning his head, the said assassin’s expression was unreadable behind his mask. Luthor’s eyes glazed over, irritation all too apparent. He raised a hand and snapped—causing both Mammoth and Shimmer to grab the boy by either arm.

 

Luthor snarled. _“Unmask him.”_

 

Walking forward, Zoom was all too aware that Red X’s gaze was fixated on him. The boy’s head raised until they (presumably) saw eye-to-eye, and the mask wiggled again over the thief’s facial expression. “Quite the punch you’ve got, speed.”

 

Zoom snorted. He reached over, hand firmly placed on X’s scalp—

 

“But mine’s still better.” X swung his legs, clamping his legs around Zoom’s head tightly, and twisted his body. Both Mammoth and Shimmer slammed heads, forcibly letting go of the man in the process. Suddenly the rope on his wrists fell to the floor, and he pressed the cloaking button on his belt once more. “For the record—I could have done that at any time.”

 

 Zoom fell backward into the ground, with a heavy _THUD_ of landing feet next to his head. X-rikens shot through the air, digging into the skin of both Terror Twins as they lunged forward.

 

“What the _HELL_!” Tuppence shrieked, and she fell to her knees.

 

Tommy scowled, his hands numb at his sides. “Don’t fret about it, Tuppence! I seen this trick before—it ain’t fair!”

 

“I got him, sweet buns! Don’t worry!” Junior sprung into action, shooting shards of ice at the ground.

 

“Missed.” _SWISH_. “Missed again.” _SWISH_. “Wow. Not even _close_ , Popsicle.” The thief reappeared, causing both Shimmer to furiously shriek, and kicked Junior square in the jaw.

 

Things finally ceased when Jinx waved a hand. Light fixtures above fell to the ground above X, caging around the man before he could cause anymore harm. Standing to his feet, Zoom created a cyclone around the fixtures, pulling the lights close until they pressed up against the boy and Red X reappeared. Everything but his head was covered in hefty metal. The thief looked up, head turned to Jinx.

 

The girl cringed, instantly falling into Zoom.

 

“You’re no fun.” The man wriggled in his grasp, causing metal to ring.

 

“Don’t you know, you moron?” Tommy Terror stood to his feet, body evidently still numb but useful. His leer turned into a hideous smirk and the group gathered behind them. “The rookie over there’s bad luck. Don’t matter where you are—all you gotta do is be in the same room with her and she could kill you.”

 

“Noted.” Red X chuckled.

 

At that moment, Zoom scowled. He ripped off the mask.

 

The boy beneath it could not have been older than his late teens or early twenties. He held a smirk, just as shit-eating as Zoom could have predicted, with sea green eyes that looked him down. His hair was bleached blond, almost white, and a piercing rested on his left eyebrow. Another one, on his nose, with two snake bites on either side of his mouth. Three in his left ear, four on his right. A long jagged scar went from above his right eyebrow to the middle of his face, like the red X that rested on his forehead.

 

 _“You’re blonde,”_ Luthor pointed out, reminding everyone he was still in the room.

 

“Since birth,” X quipped wryly, and he turned his head cheekily to meet eyes with Zoom for the first time. He wriggled again, failing to get out of the bind, and resorted to maneuvering his eyebrows. “What about you, speed? What do you look like under that mask?”

 

“Red haired Caucasian man.” Zoom tossed the mask aside, with the white skull imprint delivering a mocking smile. “Less piercings.”

 

“State your business, son.” Deathstroke walked toward them, admiring the glass and metal bind.

 

A smile formed across Red X’s bare face, impish and irritatingly charismatic as he turned his head. “A job.”

 

 _Job?_ “You’re kidding,” Zoom drawled tiresomely, and he placed his hands on his hips, unamused. “right?”

 

Before he could reiterate his disbelief, Deathstroke raised his hand to stop him. Unlike Luthor, Zoom had wary respect for his direct executive. They had a better understanding of each other, with less veins that popped on the side of bald heads. “That’s enough for now, Zoom. Thank you for reprimanding him.”

 

“You’re welcome.” The speedster bit back a smirk, noting an animalistic growl that came from Tommy Terror’s mouth while Tuppence held him back. His group glared, yet Deathstroke could have cared less.

 

“I liked it better when _Speed_ over there talked,” X said in good jest. When he didn’t get a response, only a look that expected an answer, he raised his head and jostled his shoulders. “I’ve heard of your work, Deathy. Otherwise you wouldn’t be taking a seat here with the great and powerful Lex Luthor.”

 

Silence. They all stared at the young boy, whose lips twisted with amusement, and the boy turned his head again.

 

“I’m not looking to play the _big villain_ or steal your rep. But I want to _expand_ mine.” Smirking, Red X locked eyes with the assassin. “I’m a thief. A damn good one at that, being able to take out your current team in one go. _I’m_ not the one that trashed Alva Industries back there. With a group full of arrogant metahumans, you need a normie like me to keep everyone in line. And I’ll do it—for an impressing commission.”

 

Realizing he couldn’t make full use of his body and formally bow, Red X ducked his head.

 

“I would be honored to work with the great Slade Wilson.”

 

 _“No.”_ Snarl. Luthor scoffed condescendingly and scowled. _“Jail him. We’ll make use of him later.”_

 

Jinx undid the bind over their intruder. Before Red X could react, Zoom sped to the computer table, plucked a sturdier pair of handcuffs, and linked them to the irritating blonde’s wrists.

 

“What the—” Red X sputtered, toppling on his own feet, but the speedster firmly held him upright.

 

“Very good, Zoom.” Deathstroke clapped both his hands together in a short rhythm and chuckled softly beneath his breath. Revealing his remote again, he pressed the buttons. About the room, every inhibitor collar but Zoom’s beeped before the blue bars turned red. Mammoth morphed from a gargantuan behemoth into a lanky young man with a bony scowl jutted across his face. Icicle Jr. shed of ice, revealing an unhappy (and audibly griping) blonde man. “Take Red X to the jail cells. He may actually be of use to us. Don’t you agree, Lex?”

 

Luthor said nothing. Instead Zoom nodded, large hands still wrapped tightly around Red X’s wrists. “Yes, sir.”

 

“You’ll regret it! I’d make a good _sidekick._ ” Red X tossed a look over his shoulder. They started the walk through the twin doors—which looked more like Zoom dragging the thief away, with the back of X’s boots sliding across the floor. When the door slammed shut, he twisted, allowing himself to stand on his own two feet. His expression morphed, naughtiness apparent in his eyes, and he arched a light eyebrow. “You’re the most obedient Doberman I’ve ever seen in yellow, speed.”

 

“No more circus tricks.” Beneath the opaque lenses, Zoom’s gaze narrowed irately. The rest of his subordinates had already crossed the hall, either stomping or grumbling curses beneath their breath. All except for Jinx. She looked to him, eyes wide and cautious, and a petite frown spread across her lips. As it had been, something boiled in the speedster’s chest for the young girl. “You should get some rest, Jinx.”

 

Jinx was hesitant. As usual. She shifted between her feet with dainty hands curled into fists, then glared unsurely at Red X. Raising a hand, she flashed her middle finger before trekking off in the large hallways far from them.

 

Both men waited until she was out of sight. Zoom would have forgotten his current task, had not the said ‘ _task’_ spoke. “So you do have a soft spot.”

 

Snapping out of his ministrations, Zoom scrutinized the crooked smile across X’s face, along with the blond hair that was matted to the man’s cheeks after ample time beneath a head mask. There was a boyishness to X—not ugly, but not too attractive.

 

Not with the jagged grin that took pleasure out of badgering him. “You like what you see, speed?”

 

“No more tricks, _circus_.” Zoom tightened his grip stiffly over X’s hands and pushed him forward, steering the burglar toward the jail cells. He couldn’t understand what _use_ Deathstroke would have with such an irritant—but supposed he had no choice but to obey.

 

“Why do you even follow Wilson and Luthor?” Red X scoffed, causing Zoom to internally groan. In some ways, this thief was more annoying than Mahkent. An achievement like that almost deserved praise. Instead, X continued, every part of his facial expression visible without his mask. “I’ve seen what you do. If you’re anything like the Flash, you could race out of this place—wherever we are…without a problem.”

 

At first, Zoom remained silent. As they reached the imprisonment room, he grabbed a swipe key, opened a door, and threw X inside.

 

“They’re normies. Like me.” Red X looked around his jail cell before finding a satisfactory bench. He plopped down, crossing his legs like a five-year-old child in primary school and sat straight. “Only dumber.”

 

 _If that were really the case._ Hesitantly, he turned his head to the left. Then, continued with shaking his head and jutted a thumb to the collar around his neck. “I may get more privileges than the other guys, but I show my honor by wearing the collar myself. Willingly, as a contract of trust.”

 

“So you say,” Red X quipped back. His lips twitched, sea green eyes glittering like a mad genius’s. “Take it off for me.”

 

No response.

 

“Red-haired Caucasian, huh?” the thief muttered.

 

Zoom slammed the door shut.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pictures of Red X & Zoom: <http://kingburu.tumblr.com/post/48296651671/headcanon-one-year-later-post-endgame-nightwing>


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once he got back to the Main-Ops room, Zoom was greeted with the same sight of Luthor onscreen, and Deathstroke with his legs rebelliously propped over the keyboard. Mom and Dad, he sourly mused and never told them. The other subordinates were presumably in bed, resting—or the only other activity they were allowed: beating each other up.

 

His head hurt. More so than usual. Telepathic genomes that lurked around Cadmus simply made his head hurt more, with no real understanding of his mind. Neither Luthor nor Deathstroke argued when Zoom insisted he preferred Psimon to fix him when available. His mind was a complicated labyrinth, and without the correct touches, Zoom’s performance would lack its usual finesse. He decided that for the third time that night, he would demand Psimon be pulled away from his duties with Queen Bee and brought to him.

 

Once he got back to the Main-Ops room, Zoom was greeted with the same sight of Luthor onscreen, and Deathstroke with his legs rebelliously propped over the keyboard. _Mom and Dad_ , he sourly mused and never told them. The other subordinates were presumably in bed, resting—or the only other activity they were allowed: beating each other up.

 

 _“—ueprints better work, Slade.”_ Luthor’s expression darkened on the screen. On an unspecified lever hung Red X’s skull-imprinted mask. _“Those creatures are causing more **damage** than practical use for the Light.” _

 

“A simple means to inspect their powers, Luthor. Ye of little faith,” Deathstroke mused, voice droning. He pulled off his mask and reached over to a coaster where his coffee sat.

 

 _Slade Wilson_ , Zoom thought, but didn’t say.

 

The assassin turned his head, his one eye fixated on the speedster, and a homey smile of approval spread across his lips. “Did Red X give you any trouble, Zoom?”

 

“No. I.” Zoom fidgeted, feeling a sharp tug at his head again. The collar around his neck became consciously heavy, and he laced a finger around the brim with a frown. “All went well.”

 

 _“Your performance tonight was less than satisfactory, Zoom.”_ Luthor’s eyes narrowed gruesomely and—as Zoom suspected, the vein made its appearance for the night on the man’s head, right above his left ear. _“You know—”_

“Disappointment will not be tolerated,” the speedster finished for him. His fingers tensed at his thighs. “I know.”

 

The bald man’s face scrunched together, even less content. _“Neither will backsassing.”_

 

“How come you did not tell me that your name was Slade Wilson?”

 

The question cut through Luthor’s temper with ease, like a swift knife. Both men perked at the speedster’s question and Zoom could only do a human gesture: shrug.

 

He raised his head, unsure of the discomfort that bubbled in his chest, and felt his eyebrows press together. “I thought you trusted me.”

 

Luthor opened his mouth to speak, with a predictably well-executed response, yet Deathstroke—Slade—cut the other man off. He turned his head, pulling his legs away from the machine, and looked to the speedster pleasantly. “We do trust you, Zoom. We’ve been insensitive to your feelings, haven’t we? It may be best to schedule an earlier visit with Psimon.”

 

Zoom’s lips tightened reluctantly. His hands coiled into fists and he stared at the pair of men thoughtfully. “That…would be good, yes.”

 

“Luthor will arrange it immediately then.” Deathstroke lowered his head. “You should get some rest as well, son.”

 

“Okay.” Unlike the others, his collar did not beep and turn red to disable his powers. It’d been the trust relationship he explained so thoroughly to Red X back at the jail cell. The Light wanted him powered at all times, for when they injected him with the serum and needed him for unpredictable errands. The more errands they gave him, the more they trusted his ability.

 

 _“The next mission should be by yourself, perhaps.”_ Luthor hummed beneath his breath, eyes scrutinizing the man from behind. _“ **Regardless**_ _your questionable behavior, you deliver a cleaner job than all of those buffoons together.”_

 

Suddenly—

 

“You so sure about that?” Red X landed in front of Deathstroke from an opening in the venting system, causing the man to fall back from out of his chair. Instinctively, he grabbed a sword and pressed the edge against the younger man’s head. Laughing, X cartwheeled out of the way, grabbing his mask as he did so, and threw x-pellets into the air. “You know what’s a good idea? _Emptying the annoying pest’s utility belt_ , before sending them to prison. I’m surprised you didn’t do a strip search. Did you know most electronics these days could be hacked?”

 

Zoom whirled his hands, causing the fog to dissipate. Once it cleared, Red X leaped into the air and disappeared with the press of his belt button.

 

 _“What is that mongrel doing out of his cage?!”_ Luthor was visibly shaken, fists appearing on either side of his camera.

 

“ _Hey!_ That’s Mister Mongrel to you!” Suddenly an X-shape neither Zoom nor Deathstroke had noticed before was plucked from an input from the main computer. Deathstroke slashed toward the air—and in the process, spliced the computer screen in half and cutting off Luthor’s transmission. Feet padded the metal computer screen, causing both Zoom and Deathstroke to punch the air. “I’ve had a hacker on this place since I was free of the cuffs. Can’t be a thief in this day and age without getting through security, you know?”

 

Red X reappeared at the other end of the room, fully masked and flipping the small x-shape in his hands. Running a thumb over the small item, a red hologram appeared with bits and data too small for Zoom to read.

 

“What’s _Velocity 9?_ ” he asked innocently—then ducked, as Deathstroke swiped a sword his way. He jumped, when Zoom rushed forward to swipe his feet.

 

 _Dammit._ For the first time, Zoom felt his face warm and rage swell in his mind. He reached out, _intending_ to take the other man’s life out—but was surprised, when a chuckle tumbled out of Deathstroke’s lips. The assassin cornered the younger man at the door, with the sharp edge of his blade at the boy’s neck.

 

“No wonder you want an _impressing commission,_ kid.” He kept his tone light, with the sword pressed firmly against him. “I see a lot of me in you.”

 

“Good.” A snicker fell out of Red X’s own lips, matching tones with the man above him. He reached into his thigh belt with lithe fingers, making the move almost seem obscure and sexual, and revealed a black disk with his red insignia on the front. He tossed it up eloquently, and Deathstroke caught it. “That’s my resume. Now—” His tone changed, adopting a southern drawl. “I’ll best be _goin’_ , yeah?”

 

X clamped both legs on either side of Deathstroke, ankles digging into the small of the man’s back. He pressed his hands backward against the wall as though attempting a miraculous flip, and rammed the asssin’s head into the wall. X slunk out of their bind—quickly grabbing a _boom tube_ from Deathstroke’s belt, and darted across the room, back to the vents.

 

“Hold it!” Zoom shouted. He started toward the thief, only to be put off by smoke pellets. They received scanty time, but still enough for X to make an exit. Zoom fanned the smoke out of the way, running straight for the pathway of the vent system.

 

A high-pitched beeping tore his attention away. TIK. TIK. TIK—

 

Zoom sprinted to the other end of the room, grabbed Deathstroke in his arms, and darted down the hall.

 

_BOOOM._

 

The vent system inside the Main-Ops room exploded, probably decimating all of the computers as well. Without a second thought, Zoom disposed Deathstroke in the fourth wing, where the subordinate quarters were located, and darted toward the Cadmus labs. Other than boom tubes, the only exit and open space for Red X to crawl out of.

 

And right there he was, with the irritation still boiling in Zoom’s veins. Red X plopped out of the machine, landing on his feet like a feline, and was muttering a destination into the boom tube when Zoom entered.

 

Just who _was_ this kid? Unable to contain himself—

 

“Where you going, _circus_?”—Zoom snapped. His entire body tensed as the skull mask looked over to him, long fingers still fiddling with the boom tube. “Such a short visit. Even for me.”

 

“Anger, huh?” Red X stared at him, voice light and body slackening. “Looks good on you, speed.” He tossed his head back, demeanor and stature too light in the way that reminded Zoom of both Deathstroke _and_ Lex. “You gonna put me back in prison? I just got the stamp of approval from your boss.”

 

To that, Zoom had no choice but steer to a halt. His jaw tightened, with his headache reappearing at the center of his head. Breaking character, his body loosened and he brought a hand to his forehead. He was…angry at Red X, for showing him up, but—X was also right.

 

“Gonna just go with orders?” Red X murmured intriguingly, voice rebounding off the room. He walked across the lab tables akin to Alva Industries until they stood toe-to-toe. Zoom stepped back—and was pulled forward, with hands on either side of his face. Black gloves thumbed the only open flesh across Zoom’s face and pushed against the cowl. “Too bad. I like it when you think.”

 

For the first time in a week (since…that encounter with the man named _Nightwing_ , he supposed. He remembered it clearly), cold air brushed across the exposed flesh of Zoom’s face. He blinked away the different lighting from the opaque lenses, looking angrily (but confusedly) at the man in front of him.

 

Red X’s palms remained at his cheeks and he hummed appreciatively. “Red-haired, Caucasian man.”

 

“Let g—”

 

“I’ll be seeing you.” Red X pulled the cowl again roughly over Zoom’s eyes and rammed the speedster’s head into a lab table. He kicked the disgruntled Zoom back, and skirted toward the boom tube portal once again.

 

Red X waved his hand like a princess and left.

 

**xxx**

Dick considered himself lucky that his window could open automatically. He swung through the city of Bludhaven, grateful that the new suit involved cloaking. He’d based it off of M’gann’s own camo-mode, but using it burned heavy doses of the energy fuel. So far, forty-eight hours without his watch and the city hadn’t collapsed on itself yet.

 

The twenty-year-old made a mental note to thank Batgirl and Robin the next time he was in town.

 

Swiftly bulleting through the window, Dick disabled the cloaking and landed feral-like on his hands and feet. He ripped the mask off his face, sucking in a harsh breath now that his flesh was exposed, and rubbed the soreness out of his eyes. Throwing off the gloves, the ex-Boy Wonder caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and flashed a strange and crooked grin. Twin snake bites. A helix, in one ear, followed by three piercings, and another trio in the other. Flicking his tongue, he could actually taste the metal beneath his lip. A mop of untidy blond hair fell into his eyes, squished in permeation and mask hair.

 

One swift tug, and the clip-on glamour charm was taken off Dick’s ear. Dull blue eyes replaced sea green, with every piercing and the long crooked scar away from his face. Dick was met with his own identity at the other end of the mirror, with a red X plastered on his chest.

 

And—he was running really, _really_ late.

 

 His smile looked akin to a mad genius who’d gone seventy-two hours without sleep. _Close. Ninety-four._ However, maneuvering his feet and making circles, he sucked in a breath and forced himself to focus. Shucking out of the boots, he said aloud to himself: “Computer. Open Compartment X.”

 

So much for no tech at his house. For now it was the most secure hiding place in his apartment, above the Nightwing costume. (Though nowadays, he’d gotten awful use to hanging it in the closet; using it so often that Dick considered it casual wear.)

 

**_“ACCESSING. ACCESSING. COMPARTMENT X, OPENED.”_ **

****

“Thanks,” he muttered tiredly. Dick unclasped the breastplate, revealing the zipper that put the entire uniform together and slid it down his abdomen. Unbuckling his new thigh belt, Dick retrieved the hacker he’d placed in Deathstroke’s system and hooked it to the laptop on his desk. By the time Dick returned for the night, the files should be decrypted.

 

Who said it was a bad thing to bring work home?

 

The cumbersome smile disappeared from his face, and he flicked the cold metal with his bare hand. Although Dick escaped without major injuries he still had bruises from taking on seven super powered criminals. ( _Six_ , he corrected himself. Wally was _not_ a criminal.) There was no doubt in the morning, he would need to rest.

 

With the compartment still open, Dick stripped of the Red X uniform and placed it in his hiding place. Step one was complete. _Leaving an impression._ He needed to go undercover. _Deep_ undercover, to earn the Light’s trust ( _again_ ) and retrieve his best friend.

 

As he hung up the uniform for the night and searched for a dress shirt Alfred bought him months ago, Dick’s eyes fell onto the picture he kept on his dresser. Kid Flash and Nightwing—the day he’d given up the mantle to his new little brother. All three of them stood there, with the new Robin being welcomed in by the first Boy Wonder’s best friend.

 

Jason needed it more.

 

It’d been around the time Dick was sixteen. The team was now looking at its third year, where the teenage partners of the Justice League could go on their own missions and someday graduate to be on the same level as their mentor. Being on his own with the team meant developing his own skills—which showed, when Bruce and he patrolled at home. There was a lapse where they contradicted as partners and argued—Batgirl and Alfred were often put in the middle of it.

 

However, one night he showed up at the BatCave and was introduced to a roguish kid from the streets, with a tattered red hoodie and a blackened eye. Batman explained the events that corresponded—the boy stealing the tires off his car, attempting to return the kid to his father—finding out what his _living conditions_ were. It was meant as a temporary means until they could find Jason Todd a suitable home. When Dick asked about the worry lines beneath Bruce’s cowl, the man confessed he’d rather not let Jason go and have to send him to juvie in a few years.

 

It wasn’t an immediate realization, but the longer Jason stayed, the more they got attached. Along with that came the exposure of their secret identities—but the kid was so mischievous that they’d find him in the souvenir dinosaur’s mouth one moment and then behind the computer the next. He was a smartass—Dick had to give Jason that. Rude and blunt (asking tactlessly when Nightwing introduced him to the Team, “So are you and Wally boyfriends?”), but he never shied away whenever Batman returned in the Batmobile. Jason _wanted_ to learn.

 

And, Robin would forever be the Dark Knight’s partner. Just not Dick. So in his own little way, the sixteen-year-old graduated into help running a team—an _organization_ now. (All before it went to shit.) So at his suggestion and Batman’s surprise, he put the cape and pixie boots into Jason’s hands not too long after the adoption papers came. Jason stared in awe, speechless for the first time the pair had met, and graciously accepted it. Bruce looked to him with his own silent uncertainty, and Dick nodded without the _un-._

 

Then a year later, Jason Todd died at the age of fourteen. One day Batman and Robin left for Sarajevo to pursue the Joker, and only Batman returned to Gotham City.

 

Bruce needed months with Nightwing as his partner, and even more with Batgirl. They needed each other to be _real._

 

So while his old mentor tried to heal from the emotional wounds inflicted (effectively putting up a mask and delving in his work) he was strict when he emphasized Dick came back alive from his current undercover mission. It was like Bruce was fighting the need to keep them on a short leash—which was why, the next year after Dick turned eighteen, it took six months before they allowed Tim to go on missions with the covert team.

 

Sighing, he ignored the ache in his chest and flipped the picture down. Dick went back to searching for his dress shirt and a nice pair of pants to wear.

 

**xxx**

 

Exhausted, Dick instructed is bike to navigate to the restaurant, then took a power nap through traffic. The restaurant was classy, with people eager to even get their names on the list of guests. Through the construction of his new identity, Zatanna called and revealed Artemis requested they went on a double date. Not one to run away when keeping up appearances, the old acrobat dialed the number and requested a spot. (He made an umpteenth mental note to thank Zatanna for being the best fake girlfriend ever.)

 

Finding a parking spot was easy enough. He dismounted from his bike, pulled the helmet off his head, and shook the sleep out of his eyes. The twenty-year-old dusted off his suit, stumbling on his feet. His head was light, as though someone stole the contents in his mind and put it under a large hammer. Before he left, Dick made use of the arm brace he’d used for show, now that his wrist was throbbing. Red X’s X-rikens were designed to dispel from the palms of his hands. The drawback was how far he stressed his wrist to maneuver and deploy them.

 

_Gonna have to fix that; make an upgrade and modification._

He stopped himself with a graceful hiccup, realizing what he was doing. Dick was making modifications to a suit that would eventually go against the team. Against Bruce, Tim, and Barbara. Against Kid Flash, _and_ the Flash. How was he supposed to break it to the Flash Family that they’d be going against the first Fastest Teen Alive?

 

There would be a confrontation. That was unavoidable.

 

Zatanna was at the red carpet entrance when he finally came to view. She wore a long blue dress, fitted with sequins any magician would be proud of, with navy pumps that allowed them to see each other at eye-level. The magician flashed an ill-tempered look, gorgeous orbs narrowed at the first Boy Wonder and dark red lips contorted into a frown.

 

Grinning nervously, Dick tangled a finger in one of her ringlets. “You look beautiful.”

 

She rolled her eyes, perfectly plucked eyebrows mixing with exasperation, and her expression changed to _, ‘what am I going to do with you?_ ’ Zee looked back to him, and she smirked, reaching up to touch the metal above his nostril. “You’re late. With a new change?”

 

Dick shrugged, taking the clip-on off his nose. “Not all of them are part of the charm.” He thanked her—Zatanna’s magical range with glamour charms was remarkable. He barely recognized himself.

 

“I could hardly imagine what you planned to do with it,” she jabbed. Then, as though they were attending Dick’s freshman formal all over again, she hooked arms with him nervously and started their path through the doors with a wicked smile.

 

He only laughed. “You’re turning into a regular Artemis Crock each day, Miss Zatara.”

 

“ _Am I_ , Mister Grayson?” Zatanna stopped him, placing a hand on his chest to halt them in front of the hostess stand. Her eyebrows pressed together, a sad smile coming across her face. Blue eyes flickered. “You…have a lot of Wally in you, you know.”

 

The look across his face tightened, and his smile twitched. “I don’t see it.”

 

Artemis and Kaldur were sitting toward the center of the room near the stage, where a stunning woman sung as a sweet alto. She was curvaceous, with long brown hair that tumbled in curls down her left shoulder and dark purple eyeshadow that came to life every time she blinked. Her eyelashes reached her eyebrows, and she grinned salaciously through her song at the ex-Boy Wonder.

 

Dick made sure to up his collar and ignore her, giving Zatanna a sickeningly sweet hidden glance. She rolled her eyes, a loose smile across her lips, but the grip she had was anxious. They stopped at the table, where he brushed the hair gingerly behind her ear and pressed a lasting kiss to her cheekbone.

 

“Thanks,” he whispered gently in her ear, “for doing this.”

 

Zatanna twitched, placing a dainty hand over his chest. “You’re lucky you’re _cute_ , Dick Grayson.”

 

“I’m lucky I’m _lucky_ you think I’m cute.” And the edge of his lip twitched into a smile. Still, she looked incredibly guilty for what they were doing. The last time Dick requested she did something for an undercover mission she hardly knew the details of it. _But_ —given how the entire year surmised, Dick understood.

 

“Okay,” Artemis’s voice sounded from the table—raspy and with vexation. “Okay. I believe you. You two are together, and you love each other like a bunch of teenagers again. Can you _sit down now_?”

 

The magician on Dick’s arms guffawed silently, a silent keen of misery, and Dick grinned with perfect execution.

 

The blondes in front of them both had different reactions. Artemis—her hair pinned up exquisitely with a fancy clip, and slimming green dress—rolled her eyes. Kaldur—who was wearing white gloves to hide his fins—looked more anxious. Feeling a knot in his stomach, the twenty-year-old couldn’t blame him.

 

“You look beautiful tonight,” Dick said. He pulled out the chair for his (fake) girlfriend and smiled adoringly at the old archer.

 

“Thank you.” She looked back to him, the corner of her lip pulled against her cheek and an eyebrow raised in the air. After what went on in the warehouse nearly a week ago, Dick wasn’t sure what to think. She radiated with overprotective sister vibes, in favor of her roommate and best friend. Rolling her eyes, however—Artemis left her scrutiny with a wry look. “So, what held the great Dick Grayson up?”

 

“Mission,” both Zatanna and he said in unison.

 

On the table was a cloth, neatly folded for him. Putting the good etiquette lessons Alfie taught him to use, Dick unraveled the cloth and placed it on his lap. At the other end of the table, Kaldur and Artemis both ordered drinks. Zatanna took a long sip of her cider and smiled at him.

 

“Thank you,” Kaldur voiced quietly—so inaudible Dick almost didn’t hear. “For setting this up for us, Dick. You…did not have to do this.” They made eye contact, with the nervousness in the Atlantean’s eyes apparent. No matter how calm Kaldur presented himself, his eyes always gave him away. There was no doubt under the table how tightly Artemis and Kaldur were gripping hands.

 

“I’m happy for you,” Dick said. Better to ease them in now to avoid the awkward dinner. An eyebrow raised in the air, Dick took a long sip of his— _hmm, water_ —and watched as the other pair glowed a soft shade of pink. The corner of his lip curled and he side-eyed his ex.

 

The smallest crack appeared in her façade, in favor of playful mirth.

 

“Just…to get the dinner going strong,” he said carefully, looking between the two of them. Both adults’ faces teemed with worry. “It’s…not my job to say who you can or can’t date. I mean— _sure_ ,” and he looked accusingly to Artemis, “—this was some weird double date thing to celebrate Zee and me, but you guys shouldn’t stay away from each other because of my opinion. Or Flash, or Kid Flash.” He stressed both speedsters carefully.

 

Too bad Wally didn’t have a say in this.

 

“If,” he started again, and he bit the inside of his mouth, “Wally was here, knowing what’s going on, he’d just want you two to be happy. And if that’s together, then…good for you.”

A week ago he would still be mourning the thought of his best friend. However, with the evidence that Wally—or at least, a part of Wally—was alive with a beating heart tugging at his mind, Dick couldn’t help but feel that the irony would come back to bite him in the ass, once he got deep enough. The Wally that he saw…Zoom, who spoke tepidly and with precision, had a voice that cut through him like a knife. Facing him before as Nightwing, the speedster had a harsh formal front as an obvious agent of the light. He was…dependent on them—thinking they were the reason he was still alive.

 

And…what if he was?

 

Dick’s smile remained unwavering, especially when both Artemis and Kaldur loosened in stature. The ex-archer looked at him nervously, a small smile etched across her lips. “We…didn’t plan on this happening. I—um. This is our second date. “

 

Their first date had to be nearly two weeks ago. Dick asked about him through his composition of Red X between dropping the case and making his debut. Still—he’d never thought he’d see both the leader of the league’s covert team and his second-in-command blush like kids in middle school.

 

“So?” Dick teased, and he leaned over the table, elbows on the table cutely. “How’d you guys meet?”

 

Artemis kicked him under the table.

 

“Ow.”

 

The waitress arrived and took their orders not too long afterward. Over the years he knew Artemis clung to rational thought as a civilian, with a sisterly tactlessness that often got Wally and him on the receiving end of punches and practical jokes back when they were kids. However, in the gaze of her two friends and date, she shied away with a mature quaint smile, and a light in her eyes that’d been missing since Wally died. Kaldur, too, had a liveliness to him that’d been lost after Tula past away. His smile reached his eyes, however small it was, and they completed each other’s sentences.

 

Kaldur was first to console Artemis after Wally’s death. First to confront her. Dick doubted given the chance, he would be able to lull her the way his old leader could. He imagined they matched abilities while undercover with each other. That they consoled in one another while away, with Artemis’s diminishing vitality as a rational civilian, and Kaldur’s sense of honor of duty. Both of which, that got them in a lot of trouble when the covert mission became too much for them.

 

Then, after Wally died, Kaldur invested his time in the Team and paid extra attention to Tigress as she operated. They probably went on a lot of missions together, and ended nights drinking coffee and discussing the circumstances in a way neither M’gann nor Conner could understand. Maybe the gestures became more intimate, with both of them going away from the team; from being Aqualad and Tigress, to Artemis Crock and Kaldur’ahm.

 

Conner and M’gann respectively probably noticed the change. Of their team, they were the only other founding members next. Then the next time they met, Kaldur most likely tried to keep a diplomatic front against Artemis’s direct nature. She was never harsh as Conner, or even to seek the truth like Conner—but the way she confronted the Atlantean probably sounded very Superboy-ish.

 

After that they probably discussed the setbacks that kept them from courting each other months before. And after even that, they decided to change the terms of their nightly outings for coffee, and found that they enjoyed it. They approached each other like tentative lovers—and probably threw the word around in their minds, away from each other, and secretly.

 

Part of Dick was exhausted, ready to pass out given the chance. He kept a hand firmly planted to the side of his face, smiling tightly at both his date and the other couple. Zatanna elbowed him in the ribcage twice to get a response, and he nodded like a bobblehead.

 

“So,” Artemis said—once again dissenting. She smirked as Dick grimaced distastefully at his salad. He hated Caesar. “What made you guys want to…reignite the _spark_ in your relationship?”

 

The dark-haired pair looked at each other skeptically. Dick opened his mouth to speak but— _erghh, tired._

 

“We went on a mission together last month,” Zee said quickly.

 

They did?

 

She smiled, touching his arm familiarly like they’d done as kids, and leaned her head in his shoulder. “We went undercover together. Dick helped me discover a…sorcery ring that made magic users combat each other for a show. After that, we realized…how well we worked together—again—and decided to keep in touch. Those flowers last week, Artemis. Remember? He sent them to me?”

 

All three of them blinked at her meticulousness. Artemis opened her mouth, wide and dangling, before turning her sights back to the dark-haired man. “I figured you’d get her something more…flashy.”

 

“We’re very subtle people,” Dick replied affectionately. He curled a hand into his date’s and they shared an (odd) loving smile. His eyes flickered in jest, and he leaned his head toward her. “Gosh darn it, I was golly shy when I asked her out again. Right, honey?”

 

The jest offered an honest giggle from the magician, and a roll of the eyes from Artemis.

 

“The circus acrobat and the magician. _Shy._ ” The blonde raised a brow in amusement and shook her head, visibly giving up. “Okay. Whatever. I’ll give that to you. Have you two given some thought about settling down?”

 

(This was Arty’s not-so subtle attempt to bring up the poor idea of marriage. If Dick less tired, he would have hidden his laugh better.)

 

“ _Settling down_?” Zatanna approached the subject appalled, sputtering with cutely red cheeks. She placed a hand on her chest, eyebrows furrowed together with a disbelieving smile. “Artemis, we’re _twenty._ D-Don’t get me wrong, but that would be—that’s a bad idea.”

 

“Really?” Then, Artemis turned her head to Dick, eyes burning holes at his head and a frown etched across her face.

 

Dick shrugged innocently and turned to the magician. “That’s a good point, Zee. Very articulate.”

 

She flashed him a complacent smile and nudged him in the arm roughly. “Don’t joke. We’re _young_ , Artemis. I’d—I’d like to take it slow.”

 

“We can take it as slow as you like, babe.” Pause. “That…was a little too Wally, wasn’t it?” Oops. He cringed, looking around the table for everyone’s reactions—and was surprised. It wasn’t a trigger word for a bomb, nor did his group look less comfortable about it.

 

“No,” Artemis said instantly, and she crossed her arms. “He would have said something more like—” She dropped her voice, face twisting with a triumphant smirk. “—‘You set the pace babe, and I’ll follow you _anywhere._ ’”

 

And then they laughed, bringing even an exasperated chuckle (and probably a few gruesome flashbacks) from Kaldur’s side. That was probably the best thing: the fact that neither dwelled harshly on the fact Wally passed away. Whether it was forced or natural, the pair was adamant to keep a relationship with one another. The conversation somehow, trekked back to the team. Dick realized how ignorant he’d been, not keeping up with Batgirl and Robin.

 

As of right now, Barbara was currently deploying the team on missions. The others apparently ambushed Kaldur and Artemis earlier this week and forced them to relax for the first time since Wally passed. Babs worked the computers better than Mal, Carr, or even Dick himself, and often found handy tricks to ease the mission on their side. Babs would relay the information back to the League superiors, and they often worked on joint-missions.

 

Tim was in charge of a lot of missions now. Dick supposed it was a rite of passage for him, being able to deliver a 98.9% succession rate compared to Dick’s 99.85%. He assumed the third Boy Wonder was doing better now, after Tim’s insistence that he stopped doting on their new addition. Conner and the others who resided in the mountain now resided on the Watchtower, where the team was given their own Main-Ops room on the other end of the Watchtower. There was an amount of secrecy, however, that could not be maintained between the League and the partners of the league. Kaldur voiced his concerns of perhaps building a separate unit. Or—relinquishing his membership to another member.

 

“Don’t do that,” Dick said immediately. He raised his head defiantly by the time the deserts came by and frowned. “You, Wally, and me founded that team together, Kaldur. Why would you give that up?”

 

“I do believe you were the one who abandoned the team, my friend.”

 

No response. Slightly more awake, Dick stared at the other man, open-mouthed and unsure of what to say. Kaldur’s demeanor had not changed, still neutral. The girls had disappeared, doing whatever they needed in the restroom. Perhaps that was how Kaldur and he got started on the subject: heroing was the only thing they had in common.

 

An instant later, Kaldur retrieved his comment with an apology. His demeanor shifted carefully and he bowed his head. “I apologize. It was not my intention to come off as hostile—”

 

“No! I mean, uh. No.” The dark-haired man raised a hand before the Atlantean could finish his sentence, and pressed a hand to his face. He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Kaldur, you…have every reason to be angry at me and leaving you to deal with the masses. I’m sorry.”

 

To his surprise, the other man blinked as though he didn’t expect that particular response. Kaldur lowered his head, looking at the old acrobat humbly. “You did not let me finish, Dick.”

 

Oh. Staring at Kaldur thoughtfully, Dick arched an eyebrow and rested his head on a hand. “Okay, I’m all ears.”

 

Kaldur was more hesitant than usual, leaving the younger man to wonder how long he’d thought about this. He was never one to have a nervous gesture, but Dick soon realized it was rubbing the fins between his fingers. “Having the covert team beside the Justice League for so long as it has been is remarkable.”

 

“Seven years, Kaldur. _Remarkable_ doesn’t even cover how amazing that is.”

 

“Yes. It has been an eye opener, and made us the team we are today.” Kaldur’s eyebrows glued together. “You, Conner, M’gann, Artemis, and I. None of us are interested in joining the league, after so many years beside them. What was once our aspiration is at the back of our minds. Yet I fear…the decisions we make are becoming questionable to our younger members. And the last thing we would want is for them to outsmart us, the way we outsmarted the league.”

 

Dick frowned. He thought back to the phone call he had over a week ago with Tim, who started out as a tentative Robin. Now, Timmy often times was the voice of reason in all of his decisions, working at the same level at him. _That wasn’t a surprise._ The kid was brilliant. Kid Flash, too—while Bart was always outspoken, the way he shared his thoughts was more intuitive when he came. The newer members may not have known the plan concocted over a year ago, but that did not mean they didn’t have a reaction to it.

 

“So what are you proposing?” Raising his head, Dick looked back to his old teammate skeptically. Kaldur smiled back, cautious.

 

“I spoke to Roy about it the last time we met. He is in the same group as us—no interest in the league, and no interest in the team.” Kaldur reached out and sipped his drink. “However, Lian aside, he misses his archery. We’re adults now, and can make decisions outside of the league’s jurisdiction.”

 

“Wait, wait, wait. You want to make a new team,” Dick clarified. All of it came to mind. “One outside of the team and the League on our own terms. A group of…what? Outsiders, with a name not associated with them? You’re recruiting me.”

 

“Not so much as ‘recruiting’ you as proposing the idea.”

 

Wow. “That’s…wow. That’s flattering, Kaldur. Really.” Dick blinked, placing hands on his lap. His eyebrows pinched together and he bit the inside of his lip. “I’m. Still doing the solo thing right now.” He had the Zoom ordeal to attend to. “I’m not ready to give that up.” He was a screw-up with the team. “I—”

 

“I understand.” Kaldur raised a hand to cut him off, with an elegant smile spread across his lips. “As I have said, it is a passing idea. I assumed it would be a good idea to fill you in on it.”

 

“Thank you.” And then, Dick went to pinch the bridge of his nose. Maybe this dinner was a bad idea, after everything that’d transpired.

 

“You push yourself too hard, Dick. I’m…quite surprised you made it through the appetizer.” The blond Atlantean raised an eyebrow.

 

Dick choked on the remnants of his water in favor of a laugh. “Kaldur, did you just make a _joke_?”

 

“I hardly find it a joking matter when you have not rested well since…well. Wally’s death.”             

 

“Now you sound like my butler.”

 

“So I’ve been told.” The edge of Kaldur’s lip curled upward and his gaze narrowed at the other man cautiously. His gaze softened and he let out a sigh of relief, before his eyes looked over to the bathroom—no doubt wondering of Artemis’s whereabouts. “I cannot thank you enough. For…being so accepting the both of us, no matter how long or short lived this relationship may prosper—”

 

“I told you, it’s not my job to meddle—”

 

“—but please. Take better care of yourself.” The Atlantean looked up and down, scrutinizing the black rings around Dick’s eyes. The younger man blinked, unsure of what to say—and Kaldur shook his head. “I…cannot bribe you, Not to join the team again, but know that the opportunity is always open, should you want to come back. You know that, right?”

 

Yeah. Dick knew that well. He’d been told a dozen times from many people that they wanted him back; wanted him in one place. But there was a difference between having others hate you and self-loathing.

 

So instead, Dick leaned back and smiled up to his old friend. “I know that. Thank you, Kaldur.”

 

When the girls returned from the bathroom, no one seemed surprised that Dick passed out over his plate of mashed potatoes. 


	7. Downtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A week later after another humdrum mission, he found himself perched at the edge of Wally’s memorial holo-grave. He did that a lot. Whether he was in a good mood or a bad mood, Bart found himself staring at his cousin’s face and hoping for better. There was a six-foot tall statue carved out at the Central City, with a golden plaque etched at the bottom that said, _In Memory of: **Wallace Rudolph West. “Kid Flash: the Fastest Teen Aliv**_ e **.” Our Hero.**  Bart couldn’t bring himself to go there.

“Sorry. Um. Again.”

 

“You don’t need to keep apologizing.”

 

A few hours had passed with a tiresomely sheepish smile across Dick’s face. He looked over to Zatanna, whose high-heeled shoes lazily dangling from the tips of her fingers. They enjoyed the nice August breeze, hands interwoven sweetly and rowing between them. She looked to him, blue eyes dark beneath the moonlight, and tilted her head diffidently to the side. At a certain time, Bludhaven could be quiet and still for the night, with hidden stars that appeared only to the bravest of people and glowed in the sky.

 

Dick let out a pertinent sigh and ran his free hand through his hair. After dinner they decided to go bowling—one of the most _human_ things to do. (They’d been asked to leave after shattering twenty bowling pins.) He’d unbuttoned the dress shirt, thankful to be out of a formal setting and pulled his sleeves up to his elbows. Somehow he lost his jacket in the middle of the night (which, after closer scrutiny he realized was draped over Zee’s shoulders.).

 

Given they had a _humane_ dinner and a _humane_ date, the quartet parted ways to end the night. Kaldur and Artemis informed them they would be returning to the Watchtower in order to check the progress of Batgirl on an encrypted case. The way Artemis looked at them made him feel like a piece of meat.

 

Awake, with the slightest bit of sleep after falling asleep on his bike, in his mashed potatoes, and on the bowling area, Dick looked to his sweet date with a smile. “So that story you told during dinner.”

 

“You were awake enough for that?” Zatanna mused.

 

“You and I didn’t go on a mission last month.” Dick stopped her at the alleyway, curling a hand into hers with an arched eyebrow. “And Zatanna Zatara is one of the worst liars I know. So, who were you with?”

 

She stopped, looking at him n pure disbelief. Red bloomed in her cheeks, bright and mildly disturbed. Taking in a breath, she smiled sheepishly once more. “It’s Garth.”

 

“ _Gar?_ ”

 

 _“_ Garth _. Garth!_ ” She laughed at the look of disbelief on his face, clutching her stomach in good intentions. Dick honestly had gaped, mouth hanging low in a soft ‘o,’ but it was sealed with a chaste, _innocent_ kiss on the mouth.

 

“So,” Dick said, looking at her carefully. “You. And Garth?”

 

She smirked at him, ever so bold, and tugged him closer to the correct alley. “Last month. There was a barrier keeping neighboring people to come to Poseidonis. Something magical. Atlantean sorcery didn’t seem to be effective. They wanted Doctor Fate, but. He had his hands tied with a different mission. So they asked me instead.”

 

“And,” Dick continued for her, “being Aquaman’s right hand aside from Kaldur, Garth and you were lumped together. And spent a lot of time together. You speak Atlantean?”

 

“Language barriers mean nothing to me.” She jerked him around, clawing at the front of his dress shirt and held a seductive smirk that could have woken up anyone in the nearest four blocks. It faltered, and she sighed softly before upping her pace. “But, well. You know Atlanteans—they’re empathetic. We’ve had…civil lunches by the beach, but I can’t quite tell if he’s trying to court me or not.”

 

“Just be happy you’ve got the em- on there.” A small smile etched across his lips, they stopped at a dark opening between the donut shop and a pet store.

 

Bludhaven’s zeta-beam tube, just like Gotham, was a telephone booth. Instead of teleporting herself back to her apartment in New York City, they’d decided to walk in each other’s company. However, clear as day, there stood Tempest, evidently bored as can be. He was frowning at the pet store—most likely annoyed at the amount of goldfish tanks inside. As soon as he caught sight of the pair, a bright smile appeared across his face—and then he staggered, realizing Dick was there as well.

 

“I told him I was going on an outing with Artemis and Kaldur,” Zatanna said. She matched his smile, waving enthusiastically.

 

“Why didn’t he?”

 

The magician offered a pointed look and gestured down to their interwoven hands.

 

Dick blinked. “Oh.” Pulling away, he rubbed the hand in his hair, feigning interest in the giant donut displays in the window. Garth appeared deterred, moving to leave—and Zatanna shouted something, presumably in Atlantean.

 

Tempest halted, but the look of dismay was still evident on his face.

 

Guilt bubbled in Dick’s stomach and he bit the inside of his mouth nervously. The pair turned to each other, and he ran a hand through his hair. “If…I knew you were interested in someone else right now, I wouldn’t have looped you into this. I swear.”

 

Sapphire blue orbs were hard, but not hateful. Zatanna’s eyes narrowed to him, with a solid smile before she patted him on the chest. “I know.”

 

“You’re literally the _best_. You know that, right?”

 

“I do. After the four hundred times you’ve told me tonight. You owe me _big_ , Boy Wonder.” She tugged him by the collar of his shirt and gingerly redid the buttons before arching an eyebrow. “Take it as a sign. Quit distancing yourself from everyone, and maybe you’ll know a thing or two instead of messing around.”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” The old acrobat nodded, reminding himself quietly of Kaldur’s words.

 

Zee looked to him, her gaze quiet and eyebrows pressed together, and he hoped the tightness didn’t show in his smile. Standing to the tips of her toes, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Goodbye, Dick.”

 

“Bye, Zee.”

 

He watched the pretty smile curtsy across her lips before she turned around and faced Garth again. The Atlantean undid his stance, looking to her with a worried pout. They met each other at the phone booth, exchanging words as they did so, and Garth grimaced in Dick’s direction. Still—Dick waved.

 

**“Recognized: 25 – Zatanna. B10 – Tempest.”**

 

The hum of the zeta-beam tube resonated out of the alley, with an outerworldly sound. Dick waited until both sorcerers disappeared from his sight, and stood alone.

 

Dick took the long walk back to his apartment. He stripped of the monkey suit as soon as the door shut behind him and examined the decrypted files on his computer. _Velocity 9. Metahuman drug shots._

Unsure of what he would find, he read all of the files and narrowed his search to Wally. What happened to Wally the year he was gone. What they’d done to Wally. If…Zoom was just a _clone_ of Wally.

 

Everything found made him sick to his stomach. _Disgusted_. But…not all of the data had been retrieved. He needed _more_ to put all of the puzzle pieces together. Dick faulted that to Red X—escaping to show off his moves. Deathstroke was impressed enough, he reminded himself. Luthor needed more convincing.

 

_I see a lot of me in you._

No. Dick shuddered, coming to a sudden halt in his research. Red X, in his mind was…a loose cannon. Reckless, but clean with his work. It surprised him how little time Dick devoted into coming up with a personality for the guy. X would be manipulative and bring back impressive game. If _Slade_ could get the trust of the Light and replace Black Manta’s position, than Dick himself could get in.

 

 _Normies stick together_ , he mused. At least the smart ones. Get in, get Wally, get out. There was still too much he did not know—and quite secretly, he knew he cared more about getting Wally back than stopping whatever plan the Light had.

 

Eventually the ex-Boy Wonder gave up. He let his exhaustion get the better of him. Daylight fluttered through the room, splashing on dark corners to make them visible again—yet one Dick Grayson collapsed in bed, and caught up on a week of sleep.

 

**xxx**

The room was kept dark, with lights that practically didn’t exist. The temperature was cool, in order to avoid overheating in each holographic tomb, and every being glowed an evangelical blue—like soft torches of life that’d succumbed to the worst deaths. Each entity had a quirk about their face that spoke dimensions about their—well, _them_. Bart liked to think that if he stared long enough at the first Kid Flash’s face, Wally look like a proud cousin.

 

A week later after another humdrum mission, he found himself perched at the edge of Wally’s memorial holo-grave. He did that a lot. Whether he was in a good mood or a bad mood, Bart found himself staring at his cousin’s face and hoping for better. There was a six-foot tall statue carved out at the Central City, with a golden plaque etched at the bottom that said, _In Memory of: **Wallace Rudolph West. “Kid Flash: the Fastest Teen Aliv**_ e **.” Our Hero.**  Bart couldn’t bring himself to go there.

 

After Wally’s death, his identity had been revealed the world, to honor the hero as a whole.

 

It just didn’t feel _real_ if Bart went to the grave at the cemetery.

 

Sitting at the edge of his cousin’s holo-self, Bart rested his chin on his knees. He stared at Kid Flash’s goggles on the organic grass in front of him, and watched the glow of Wally’s face against them. They’d gone on an undercover mission involving Lex Luthor, with satisfying results. But—

 

Nightwing dropped the case involving Zoom over a _week_ ago, with August floating by as a dream. Soon it would be September, then October—then November. Wally’s birthday. One, Bart mused, that he would not get to spend with his cousin. _Again_.

 

“I knew I’d find you here.”

 

“Really? Because that’s kind of creepy.” Snapping out of his thoughts so easily as he often did, Bart readjusted his position. He sat cross-legged in front of the plaque, with hands folded in his lap—but looked over to the long door, where Robin stood at the corridor with straight-lined lips. Waiting a moment, the brunet felt his heart clench tightly in his chest, and an easygoing smile spread across his lips. “But endearing. Like—creepdearing.”

 

Just like Bart squatted in front of the Kid Flash memento, Tim waltzed over to the ominous lighting of Jason Todd with a twitch for a nod. The Boy Wonder nodded silently, with a smile that fit his personality. They entered a silence the brunetr couldn’t help be fond of, and watched their respective predecessors.

 

Bart didn’t have an opinion of Jason Todd. It was hard to form an opinion on someone you didn’t have emotional contact with—but the stories he’d read before coming to the present time called him a good man. A lot of the BatFamily had already died off before he became Impulse.

 

Eventually when reminding himself Wally was dead for the umpteenth time became boring, Bart collecting himself, his goggles, and crawled over to Tim. The other teen stood tall, observing the second Robin’s memento in silence. He turned to look to Bart—and a small smile spread across his lips.

 

“I’m glad,” Bart blabbed—before he could grasp what he was saying.

 

Robin looked back, most likely blinking beneath his mask. The said mask shifted, black eyebrows pinching together with amusement. “You’re glad that we’re standing in a hall full of dead people.”

 

“No! No.” Bart grinned back, unable to contain his own laugh. What some people didn’t know was, Robin actually knew how to crack a joke. “I mean. You know—Jaime and I are _hermanos_ and all, but you—you get it.”

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        

That was enough to steer Robin off his track. His smile faded away, arms crossing over his chest. “Oh?”

 

They’d been hanging out since the first Zoom incident. Even before that, Bart considered Tim his best friend next to Jaime—especially after everything that went down with Blue Beetle getting possessed. After Wally died, everyone including Jaime coaxed him through it. Tried to, anyway. Bart saved his grandpa, but he lost _Wally._ Tim—well. Tim wasn’t as good at it—which was what made it the best.

 

(It was probably conditioning from years as a slave—the fact that Tim was numb, or _tried to be_ numb felt raw. Tim lost people too. He _failed_ to protect, and that was exactly how Bart felt.)

 

Biting his lip, Bart looked up to the pale hologram, hunched his shoulders, and crossed his arms. “You know what it’s like, inheriting the title from someone who’s dead. And the first guy—he was Wally’s best friend. Jaime tells me not to worry whenever I second-guess myself, but—when it comes from you, I…I feel like you mean it.”

 

The words ran through his head again and Bart blinked. Wait a minute.

 

“Is…that why you’ve been monitoring me recently?” Turning his head, Bart stared at the Boy Wonder incredulously. “You’re worried about me?”

 

Shrug. “I…was returning the favor for what you did for me. When my dad died.”

 

“Oh.” Bart thought back to the incident at hand. During the month Dick returned to the team, Nightwing doted on his new baby brother at all times, to make sure he was okay. Batgirl rarely wanted Robin out of her sight—and afterward, it was obvious Tim was fed up with it.

 

Their team had their own special room where they were allowed to hang out since the mountain was out of the question. Tingling with his own impulsiveness, Bart volunteered to go on patrol with the Boy Wonder so he could blow off some steam.

 

“So what brings you here,” Bart asked thoughtfully, arms crossed over his chest, “with me? I mean—not _with_ me, but with me, here, you know. Sort of. Floating. Well—actually floating; duh, we’re in space—and not space as in a _room_ , though we take up like, 2% of the spa _tial_ area here, but I mean like. Stars and stuff. Stuff as in meteors and, uh. Stuff.” Wow, he was bad at this.

Tim turned to him thoughtfully, hands tucked on either side of him with a thoughtful look. “You need to talk?”

 

Oh. “Am I just like an open book to you?”

 

“I like books.”

 

“Yeah—I. Me too, I guess.” Rocking back and forth between his heels, Bart ran the thoughts through his head. He sucked in a breath and bit the inside of his mouth. The glow from Wally’s hologram shadowed his figure, so his long shadow met the walls. Shrugging nonchalantly, Bart crossed his arms and leaned on his left foot. “I—do I seem like I need a talk?” He kinda hoped this wouldn’t turn into a pokemon talk again. And hoped that it did.

 

Tim shrugged. His poker-face remained, gaze pretty flat. But a moment later—his lips twitched. Lenses twitched. Robin’s stature faltered and he ducked his head to scratch his temple. “I’m. Uh. I’m not very good at this.”

 

On the contrary. Bart blinked owlishly, eyes wide and curiously gold like his suit. He crossed hands behind his head and let a hardy smile spread across his lips. “

 

You’re doing fine.” He bit back the need to snicker.

 

“Thanks.” Tight and stiff.

 

“Is it okay if I don’t think about him?” Bart gave the question a test run. He rocked on his heels again and narrowed his gaze toward the solemn hologram. Biting the inside of his mouth, he continued, “I mean. I used to think of him all the time when I first put on the suit. But now I…I think about what he says, rather than, ‘this is how he would have done it.’ I _do_ it instead of _thinking_ , and then it’s…it’s not until afterward that I realize Wally may have done it differently. Better. That maybe, they’re judging me. And…in present time, I feel…” Bart shrugged nonchalantly. “I feel right.”

 

“It just means you’re over the circumstance—”

 

“But I don’t _want_ to be over the circumstance. I mean—” Bart felt his head pound. He didn’t feel like he deserved to forget about the circumstance.

 

If…he’d been able to _hear_ Flash, been able to read his lips, they could have slowed down. They could have prevented Wally from dying the way he did.

 

“It doesn’t make you any less of a person,” Tim said to break his ministrations. A hand touched Bart’s shoulder, firm and tight. Looking over, the brunet caught sight of the smile that curled at the corner of Tim’s lips. “Trust me.”

 

Bart let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. His arms remained tucked beneath his armpits and he looked back up to Wally’s form. “I do,” he said, voice saturated with anxiety. Then, green eyes fell to meet opaque lenses. “I do trust you.”

 

“Thank you.” Robin smiled. The black cape draped over his shoulder, hiding muscles beneath darkness. He bowed his head before turning back to Jason Todd’s memorial, so Bart did too.

 

“Do you miss him?” he asked. Bart bit the inside of his mouth and cursed. Crap. “I mean—maybe that’s impossible—you now, considering he, uh, died before you ever put on the suit, but I mean—well, does he have sentimental value to you—”

 

“Don’t talk about him like he’s an inanimate object, Bart.”

 

“Uh—oh.” Bart bit the inside of his mouth and rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully. “Sorry.”

 

Tim shook his head. The glow of the second Robin’s uniform glistened against the current Boy Wonder’s pale skin. He scrutinized the hologram more carefully as though there were a detail he’d never noticed before. “He saved me once. Back when I was about eleven.”

 

“Yeah?” Bart knew very little about the second Robin. The bits he _did_ know—were simple. Books described him as a light-hearted Robin—and dying as a hero. Bart felt that point was incredibly adamant, when he read it.

 

“He smiled a lot. Was cheerful. That’s how Nightwing was when he first became Robin.” The _‘was’_ in that sentence sounded dreadful. Tim bowed his head again, shoulders hiking over his ears and shrugged stoically. “Batgirl likes to say that Jason had Nightwing’s wit, and I got his analytics. Not that it makes either of us more or less of a detective. Sometimes I wonder if Batman has a favorite Robin.”

 

“Then you realize how stupid you must sound in your head?” Bart guessed. He smiled when Tim’s lips twitched. _“I_ think you’re funny.”

 

“You read an entire library worth of joke books.”

 

“The one about ‘orange you glad I didn’t say banana’ one never gets old.”

 

Tim shook his head, but not dismissively. His eyebrows pinched together beneath the mask, lips fidgeting into a nonexistent smile. Bart liked to think the Boy Wonder was trying not to laugh. Robin took one step behind him, turning his body at an angle toward the door. “I should probably get going. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

 

Oh. “Yeah.” Bart’s lips curled into a disappointed frown and he reached out. “Wait.”

 

The other teen turned around, expectant. The speedster cursed in his head, realizing his brain suddenly ran straight into a wall, and bit the inside of his mouth. Harshly. _Nervously._

 

“Joan makes this cool dinner, where they soak the steak in powdered sugar, wrap bacon around it, and then bake it.”

 

No response.

 

Oh—wait, he’d forgot to ask a preceding question. He smacked himself mentally (and maybe physically on the forehead, disregarding Tim’s amusement) and looked up nervously. “Do you want to sleep over?”

 

There was a twitch in the current Boy Wonder’s mask, where his mouth even parted with surprise before closing curtly again. A nearly-inaudible sigh and the slightest shade of pink in his ears. “I beg your pardon?”

 

Bart admitted—watching Robin get sort-of-maybe-flustered was really cute. He stepped forward without thinking, hands tucked behind his back as his nose delved into Tim’s personal space. “We’re friends. Right? Friends sleep over at places. I hear some even cuddle. But—Food. This is about food and a—thank you. For everything you’ve done so far.”

 

If stoic looks could be expressive, Tim looked doubtful. Bart only smiled as the boy bit the inside of his lip. “I’ll have to ask Batman.”

 

“Uhuh.”

 

“It’s patrol night.”

 

“Uhuh.”

 

“He’ll… _ahem_.” Apparently a thought passed through Tim’s head, evidently preoccupied with his relationship with the Dark Knight in the past few weeks. “He’ll probably say yes.”

 

Bart only beamed.

 

Grandpa looked surprised whenever the young speedster escorted his friend to the zeta-beam tube, bold enough to loop an arm around Robin’s like a dog’s leash. But not objecting. Bart knew Flash’s face too well, how worried he was working with Batman to solve the Zoom mystery while juggling raising Dad and Aunt Dawn, and in a roundabout way, Bart himself. They worried about each other—a lot. And unlike a lot of partners, they were usually vocal and immediate about their concern.

 

However, Bart knew they were in the stage where they were trying to keep quiet. Trying not to show how scared they were for each other. It was the part of Bart that wanted to say he was _over_ Wally’s death and he could get _past_ it. Because before everything went down the crapper, Impulse and Flash were efficient partners; so a new Kid Flash shouldn’t have changed anything. (Yet…Bart was willing to admit he’d never get over the fear that one day he’d wake up and Grandpa would be dead.)

 

They decided to crash in the Garricks’ living room since it had the biggest TV. Being prepared for everything (surprisingly), Bart was met with the dark shades, a _Gotham University_ t-shirt and a pair of track shorts that felt too good to be true.

 

After he stared for a good minute or so, one of those pale legs faltered backward. Tim arched an eyebrow in the air. “Something wrong?”

 

He had the ‘there’s something wrong in the room and I’m going to make you point it out’ tone to his voice. Resisting the urge to lick his lips, Bart collapsed over his body pillow. He scrutinized the dark leg hair one more time and turned his attention to Back to the Future. “Nothing. Just forgot you were actually human under that suit.” _With killer legs like your brother_ , he decided not to add.

 

The smirk across Tim’s face almost passed for human; even teen-ish, but he shook his head and leaned against the coffee table. The house was dark, save for the lamp that rested on a end table near the fashionable couch. Jay and Joan had long gone to bed, knocked out like good old people. Before they were dropped off, Flash offered to supply them with drinks, marshmallows, popcorn, and whatever else they were needed. Bart was too excited to be embarrassed with a key fact—he hadn’t had a friend over in weeks. It was either homework, patrol, or the team.

 

“Thanks,” Tim said to snap him out of his thoughts. He leaned over to open a Dr. Pepper and looked up as Michael J. Fox rolled his eyes. “I know I’m not Jaime, but…”

 

Bart bit the inside of his mouth. “We’re not actually seeing each other right now.”

 

That seemed to pique the Boy Wonder’s interest. “You two are best friends.”

 

“Yeah. Well—I kissed him and he yelled some weird words in Spanish, and then told the Scarab to buzz him out of here.” Squinting at the TV screen, the brunet hummed and waved his legs. “But it’s like. He was really close, and we were laughing. And then I kissed him.”

 

“Uh…” That was _Tim_ for ‘lack of comprehension.’

 

Involved with the movie, Bart only offered a half-hearted shrug and shoved a hand-full of popcorn in his mouth. “Kind of a weird way to come out of the closet though, huh?”

 

“A bit,” Tim agreed. Bart decided to ignore the strained silence that passed with it. He looked to the corner of his eye, and noticed that the elder teen’s expression changed very little. Like he was debating something. Waiting a heartbeat, Tim reached over and scooped up popcorn himself.

 

(With a bitten back sigh of relief, Bart decided to rake the hesitation toward his tactlessness. He was working on it—honest.)

 

“Does Flash know?” The other teen asked that in absolute casual conversation. There was a _crunch_ as he ate kernals.

 

Closing his eyes, Bart pressed his cheek into the pillow and felt his shoulders at his ears. “Wally did.”

 

“Ah,” was the response. Which dropped the conversation again with a curt, awkward nod.

 

“It’s a theory I’m working on,” Bart confessed. He rocked over his pillow until his back pressed against the wooden floor and he clung to it like a koala bear to a tree. “After so many traumatic experiences, especially in what _we_ do, it doesn’t matter the gender. Just the person you’re looking for, y’know?”

 

Despite the many gaps in their conversation, Bart failed to see anything uncomfortable in Robin’s body language. Then again—Tim knew how to act and react. If the lack of discomfort on Tim’s face wasn’t real, then…Bart tried not to think about it. “Not very many people would agree with that theory, let alone think of it.”

 

In the background, an explosion fired on the TV and Doc’s eyes bugged out.

 

“Do you?” The brunet asked.

 

Tim’s lips pursed together tightly through the curt exchange. “Yeah.”

 

Great. Sitting up, Bart closed the distance between them, bumping shoulders with the other teen. He couldn’t quite tell what emotion twisted across Tim’s face. He bumped feet with the other boy, noticing how long and weird they seemed next to each other, and wiggled his toes. Flash’s—Grandpa Barry’s reaction from earlier carried through his mind. “You think that’s how Wally and Nightwing thought of each other?”

 

Surprisingly, it didn’t take long for Tim to agree with him. He reached over for the remote, slowly turning the volume down until it was at the last bar. “Nightwing and Wally’ve known each other since before you and I became heroes. Of course their bond would be…”

 

“Affectionate?”

 

“Inhuman.” Shrugging, the off-duty Boy Wonder flipped the remote in his hand like a birdirang. “It’s…not just like they’re best friends. Before Artemis, Kid Flash and Robin were partners.”

 

“You mean Dick and Wally.” Bart nudged the other boy with his hand.

 

“Uh—yeah.” A lithe finger pushed glasses over blue eyes. Tim seemed to falter in his own thoughts, chewing on his own lip in thought. That being done, Bart took the careful wording into mind.

 

“Do _you_ think we could be partners?”

 

“Do you?” Tim asked with just as much curiosity.

 

The speedster only shrugged, unsure how to conjure a response. It was true, Blue Beetle was hesitant to spare him a glance since the kiss incident. Usually they’d be the ones paired off together, but if he were honest with himself—Robin was there more since Impulse became Kid Flash. He felt bad, too—rarely did Bart ever ask how Tim’s day was going. “I’m not…opposed to it.”

 

To his surprise, the answer was met with a bump of the shoulder. The edge of Tim’s lips curled and he pulled a leg up to his stomach. “We’ll run with it.”

 

“It’s what I’m best at.” Matching the elder teen’s smile, Bart hunched over his knees and pushed the body pillow aside. He swallowed his thoughts, running the proposal in his head. “Kid Flash and Robin. They…stopped being kids when the team started. Since they saw so much of each other.”

 

Tim shook his head in disagreement. “They just…forgot how.” Setting the remote down again, Tim turned his body so they faced each other. “I know from personal experience how much Dick… _cherished_ Wally.” He tested the word on his lips, wondering if that was the right word. “It’s why he’s so hard on himself about Antarctica. Why he doesn’t want to compromise everyone else. I don’t…agree with what he does. But someone has to question his objectivity.”

 

“He’s a powerhouse of the team. Or—was. Questioning Nightwing’s objectivity was like, Wally’s major in college,” Bart pointed out. He stood up, sped over to the end table, and grabbed the small picture of the Flash Family. The first and second Flash, and the first Kid Flash, back when Wally was fourteen or fifteen. A stupid grin rested across his face—the first thing anyone ever saw. “They may have argued, but it’s not Dick’s fault Wally decided to put the suit on. Wally did it willingly. They’re just…adults arguing like children, and rebounding off the argument like it’s an adult problem.”

 

“We’re not exactly kids either.”

 

Shrug. “I haven’t been a kid in a long time.” Silence. Staring at his bare feet, Bart made out the gunk that was beneath his big toe nail. The TV echoed off Marty McFly’s voice as he screamed. “So what are we?”

 

Tim’s hand rubbed the fabric of his shorts, feigning interest. He pursed his lips, then opened his mouth. “Somewhere in between.”

 

In between. That…wasn’t the right word. But as much as Bart ran the thoughts through his head, he couldn’t help but look over to his forthcoming new best friend. It was no question how high Robin’s IQ was—that almost came with the job description. The casualness of his voice carried—and Bart bounced off of it.

 

He plopped down next to the Boy Wonder, nudged him in the knee, and sighed. Then fumbled with the popcorn. “We can be betweeners together.”

 

“I can deal with that.” The gesture was returned with a ghost of a smile curling across his lips.

 

They watched the rest of the movie, occasionally in silence before Bart babbled about the inaccuracies of 1980s special effects, while Tim occasionally agreed with him. In between switching movies from Back to the Future I to Back to the Future II, Bart unintentionally made a loud yip.

 

“Yeah?” Tim arched an eyebrow.

 

“Nothing,” Bart blabbed. He mixed the leftover unpopped popcorn in his bowl and hummed. “You really do get me.”

 

**xxx**

“His name is Wilkie.”

 

“Is there a problem with the name Wilkie?”

 

“Only if there isn’t a problem with the fact he trusts us with his full name.”

 

“Having trust and throwing out a name are two completely different concepts, Zoom. He’s either desperate to impress us with his credentials, or this so-called _‘resume_ ’ of his is as hollow as his mask. A moot point: He’s either completely stupid or has something up his sleeve.”

 

Zoom bit the inside of his mouth, looking carefully at the computer screen as it read the name, ‘ _'William Halley Elm._ ’ The disk shown was far more sophisticated than what either Deathstroke or he suspected.  On the keyboard alone was a small hologram of Red X in various pin-up girl poses. He grimaced, unsure how to take the news. Following the grimace came a headache—and following his headache was a distasteful groan.

 

Deathstroke looked over, his one eye focused on the speedster. “Your time without Psimon is taking a toll on your health.”

 

“It’s why I insist on going to Biayla myself,” Zoom murmured. He pushed the cowl off his face and pinched the bridge of his nose distastefully. “I could—”

 

“Luthor has the final say in what your instructions are. As of now, you are on house arrest until we need you.”

 

“Even though _you_ are in charge of deploying me.” The speedster mumbled again and rubbed his nose. He crossed his arms, glaring unenthusiastically at the unmasked Red X. _Wilkie_ , he thought dreadfully. With another headache that would soon morph into a painful migraine.

 

“You’ve been unmasking yourself a lot, lately.” Deathstroke changed the subject without another word. He pressed a key, changing Red X’s smug face to his assets and abilities.

 

 _Hm._ Zoom paused, a frown enveloping his lips. He reached behind him and dragged the hood over his head. “It’s not intentional. It’s just—”

 

“Human,” Deathstroke finished for him.

 

Debating the words in his head, Zoom’s head only pounded harder.It was an insult. _Human_ had to be the furthest word to describe him. That being said, he fastened the cowl tight over his vision and gestured to the screen. “So what is the verdict?”

 

 “Unfortunately Lex doesn’t see the merit of having a twenty-year-old man ‘dicking around,’ in the laboratory, when he has plenty of those already.”

 

“So you’re inviting him,” Zoom translated. The mirth in his boss’s tone was unquestionable.

 

“He’ll get his excellent commission if he proves his worth.” Pulling out the X-shaped thumb drive, Deathstroke inspected it. He crushed it in his hands in one squeeze and flung it at the ground before picking up a small green chip. One with a microphone attached to it.

 

“That easy to find a chip?” The speedster arched an eyebrow beneath his mask.

 

“We have a lot in common. Like I said: I see a lot of _me_ in him.” Inspecting the small chip one more time, Deathstroke tossed it aside and crushed it with his foot. He turned around and exited out of all of his programs. “You’re dismissed for now, Zoom. I’ll call you for your next assignment in the morning.”

 

 _Next assignment._ So that meant _house arrest_ was just a buff so Luthor wouldn’t ride Deathstroke’s ass for the time being. “Yes sir.”

 

Waiting one more moment, Zoom watched Deathstroke pull up a different set of statistics to examine, with his fingers hovering over the _Call_ button—no doubt for Luthor. _Dad needs to call Mom_ , he mused in his head wryly. Carrying on that thought, he strolled out the entryway and waited, until he could see the shiny bald head appear in high definition.

 

_“We will heighten the dosage of Velocity 8.12 in his system and limit distilling the chemicals.”_

 

Zoom bit back a tired groan and swallowed down the irritation.

 

Because they were talking about him. Velocity 8 was what saved his life, according to Deathstroke and Luthor. It neutralized the unstable radiation in his body, with the side effect of making him fast. _Well. Super-Fast, actually._ Whatever nearly killed him also gave him super speed, according to the pair. He’d been comatose for nearly a month, where Velocity 1 through 7 were injected into him to speed up the process and pull his body out of stasis.

 

Red X was wrong. Deathstroke and Luthor were his saviors.

 

He was smug about the thought because X… _William “Wilkie” Halley Elm_ —Zoom rolled his eyes—wasn’t there to make him angry. Piss him off. Should Red X actually become a reliable asset, Zoom feared actually working with the man. Just as much as it piqued his interest. He decided he’d put it in the back of his mind for now.

 

Besides, needles _hurt._ That was his problem with the new medication, especially when they heightened the dose he received. Zoom was forced into bed rest, with an IV through his arm for twenty-four hours, as the Velocity drug to settled in and placed his body in equilibrium with his hyperactive metabolism. The bruise that came afterward lasted for at least an hour, with an ugly black color and little black specks ebbed in skin. Zoom couldn’t resist his curiosity to poke it—to see if it bled. He couldn’t help it—it was just so _ugly._

 

Hence, pain.

 

There was the other thought—one that examined Deathstroke’s words and reminded him he was a test subject they were looking to ‘fix.’ A prototype to adjust the drug before they planned on moving forward with their plans. Zoom's hyper-accelerated healing allowed him to be tested on as long as they needed. Along with Psimon, they were the pillars that kept him numb. Kept from being human. Inferior.

 

Shivering, Zoom began the trek to his room. He’d long faded away from Luthor and Deathstroke’s conversation, anyway. _Mommy and Daddy_ , he thought again. Being grounded and under house arrest was a petty move—especially for them. He was bitter about it, as they used different agents below him to get their hands dirty. The _dumb ones_ , too.

 

Pausing in front of a dark glass door, he was met with the sight of Tuppence Terror and Mammoth sparring while laboratory scientists took notes. Shimmer stood by, observing her brother while the scientists took vivid descriptions, five words per penstroke.

 

 _Mammoth would be leaving soon_ , Deathstroke informed him earlier in the week. The said beast had bulging muscles, veins spasming like small rivers every time he flexed. A smirk was marred across Mammoth’s face. He grabbed Tuppence by the arm, spun her, and threw her against a wall. The entire room trembled under the sudden impact and Tuppence’s muffled scream echoed through the complex.

 

 _He is already affected by the Kobra Venom—something the former is only interested in using for the Cult of Kobra._ The Light would stay ahead by producing their own ‘venom.’ Mammoth was only kept as an incentive for Shimmer to stay. However, Mammoth would be transported to a different division of the Light to help the Underworld elsewhere.

 

In the dark metal, Zoom observed the fight for only minutes. He hesitated, bringing gloved fingers over the crown of his head, and looked at the pale reflection of the red-haired Caucasian man.

 

His hair was cropped short, in order to keep from getting in the way when he ran or during tests. Light freckles adorned his face from a childhood Zoom didn’t remember, with a long narrow nose, and a diamond shaped face that jutted in awkward angles. The last few days he’d forgotten to shave, with the hint of scruff at his jaw line. Zoom had seen it plenty of times. It was _his_ face, after all. But with the mask on, with what Luthor and Deathstroke requested him to do, he wasn’t the oblong-looking man in his reflection. He was Zoom.

 

 But. Taking into consideration how Red X looked at him, only a week prior…

 

Zoom shook his head. No—that thief was a _moron._ A boy with a few circus tricks.

 

Psimon giving him a sedative couldn’t come soon enough.

 

Making the last rounds, Zoom reached his door. Images of college campus residential halls flickered behind his eyes—of Stanford University’s dorm rooms, CalState, Happy Harbor University—et cetera. Rooms so small that you could barely move from side-to-side. Makhent and Tommy Terror shared one room, as did Tuppence Terror and Jinx. Shimmer would soon get her own room when Mammoth returned to Kobra.

 

Being Deathstroke’s immediate accomplice, Zoom was granted his own living quarters with a small kitchenette, a couch that pulled out into a bed, and his own bathroom. Tests were done on him so often with the Velocity dosages that his quarters doubled as an infirmary.

 

 **“Authorization. Zoom.”** He pulled the cowl from his eyes and ignored Deathstroke’s earlier comment as it rang in his head. **“Retinal Scan Comple—”**

The retinal scanner exploded. A minor explosion—but one none the less.

 

Without batting either eye, Zoom turned to see Jinx at the other end of the hall. The fright and misery she held around the other lackies was replaced with embarrassment. “Sorry.”

 

“At least my door didn’t break away this time.” He pushed it open to make sure access was granted. “C’mon.”

 

The collar over Zoom’s neck was different from the one on Jinx’s. His lit blue while theirs lit red. Every inhibiter collar was specialized to restrain specific powers of each metahuman. His collar was to track him should he stray away from the mission’s objective. It tracked his heart rate, his speed, and could even inform Deathstroke when he received external damage from opponents.

 

And Zoom destroyed all tracking signals and cameras in his living quarters various times throughout the year.

 

The first time was an honest accident. Psimon deduced that Zoom may be prone to spouts where his id overcame his superego.

 

After that, destroying cameras and sensors in his room just became a way to piss Lex Luthor off. Every single word that came out of Luthor’s mouth felt like utter buillshit. For some reason, Deathstroke easily excused his behavior. After six months of repetitive destruction to the systems, Deathstroke ceased reconstruction. Something told Zoom that Deathstroke got a kick out of the entire ordeal.

 

He pulled a glass out of his cabinet and filled it with water before placing it on the coffee table in front of Jinx. “Can you lift it?”

 

Her complexion paled to a bewitching gray. “I’m not that kind of sorcerer.”

 

“You haven’t tried to be.” Zoom lifted off his retro-style TV and VCR from the TV stand and used it as a place to sit. Across from him, Jinx’s pink eyebrows knit together, worried. “Go ahead.”

 

A moment passed. Jinx placed her hand in front of her and let it glow as pink as her hair. The same glow of energy shimmered around the glass.

 

And then it shattered.

 

Jinx cringed and her hands shriveled. Her gaze fell to the ground, defeated. “I knew I couldn’t do it.”

 

“Then how are you going to do it?” Zoom snorted. He zipped to the kitchenette, retrieved a wet towel, and collected the shards of glass. Seconds passed, and Jinx now had a second glass perched in front of her.

 

Per usual, she gathered this one and took a long gulp.

 

Jinx was originally a captive of aliens known as the Reach. Once Zoom’s identity was created and he was feeling subpar, the Light crammed information through his head via Psimon and several video files. Jinx, a runaway, developed her powers, self-dubbed _unluckiness._ She confessed to Zoom that she’d run away from home when she thought she was pregnant. Once her powers developed, she came to the Light voluntarily when she knew her powers could hurt people.

 

Whatever her name before wasn’t who she was now.

 

“If you expand your powers, then Deathstroke may see you in a better light.” Zoom took the empty glass and placed it in his sink. “You could get a promotion.”

 

“Like you?”

 

“Always have to start somewhere.” He knew at that age, Jinx would most likely let it go through in one ear and out the other. Luthor, Psimon, and Deathstroke all informed him that Zoom’s behavior went no further than his actions and prior thought to those actions.

 

However, there was still a part of him that determined Jinx’s powers should not define who she was. More specifically—what she saw as _good_ and what she saw as _bad._

 

Her unluckiness should not put her in an unfortunate situation. One could see it in her eyes when she carried out missions with others—Jinx didn’t do well with being bad. That was why Zoom always tried to further her studies with her powers in ways that Cadmas would not.

 

And, like often, having those complicated thoughts run through Zoom’s mind made his head hurt.

 

“Thank you for trying, Zoom.” Jinx sighed. “But I’ve given up _expanding_ my ‘sorcery.’”

 

“Let’s watch a movie.” Zoom stood to his feet and placed the DVD player and TV back on the stand. He plucked a DVD titled, _12/22/10, Bruges._

 

“That’s not a movie.” Jinx frowned.

 

“Movie enough.” He turned the TV on and sat at the opposite end of the couch.

 

“ _Welcome! To the Haly International Travelling Circus! Where the world of decievery is your oyster! And **these** are our latest pearls! The Daring Dangers!” _

 

Lights shined gloriously in the circus tent, directed at a chubby old man in the center of the ring. The camera ushered to circus freaks dressed in white and red. Eventually, it focused on two trapeze artists as they swung above.       

 

“Okay. In terms of _movies_ , this is a good substitute to Cirque du Soleil.” Jinx grinned and sat back in the chair.

 

Zoom agreed full-heartedly. “Yeah. It is.”

 

 

 

 


End file.
